


We'll Go Down in Flames

by StoriesofmyLife



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-05-03 17:46:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5300852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesofmyLife/pseuds/StoriesofmyLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss Everdeen, lone Victor of the 74th Hunger Games. </p><p>Finnick Odair, Victor of the 65th Hunger Games and Capitol sex symbol.</p><p>When Katniss wins the Hunger Games, Haymitch seeks out Finnick's help in protecting her against the Capitol's cruelty  to it's Victors by posing as her lover while Katniss remains unaware as she tries to get through the Victory Tour and the daunting task of becoming a mentor during the Quarter Quell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There Are No Winners

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys! It’s been a long time since I’ve written a fanfic of this nature and it’s my first time writing for the Hunger Games Series. I saw Mockingjay Pt. 2 this past weekend and I was absolutely gutted when Finnick died. I had read the books, but it had been a while, so that whole scene took me completely off guard. Anyways, I’ve spent most of the week reading Finniss fics and I fell in love with the pairing, so I decided to take a crack at it. I hope you guys like it!

Waves crashing against the shore brought peace to Finnick’s racing thoughts and eased the tension in his aching shoulders. The sand between his toes was soothing and familiar and the sharp scent of salt in the air made him feel safe.

He was home.

His thoughts drifted as he wandered down the shoreline, the cool ocean water lapping at his feet, beckoning him to come closer and for a moment, he thought about giving into the waves demands and letting them carry him out into the swirling depths of the ocean. It’d been a rough two months of living in the Captiol, making appearances at events, socializing with superficial Captiol citizens and romancing them at night in strings of hotels rooms that after a while, blurred together into one endless hell that he had no chance of escaping from.

Unless… He thought back to the night before he left the Capitol.

It’d been the one night he didn't have an…appointment and he spent it holed up in his apartment, packing his things and eagerly awaiting the train that would take him back to Four. Away from the prying eyes of President Snow and his merry band of idiots, where he would be safe and be able to live until he had to go back. He always had to go back.

He didn't make it a well known fact where he lived, so when he heard a rather loud pounding on his door at one in the morning, it was a bit of a surprise. Although, upon opening the door, he really shouldn't have been shocked once he saw who was behind it.

Haymitch Abernathy wasn't someone Finnick made a habit of socializing with—outside of rebellion meetings and events when they were forced to speak with each other, such as the wrappings of the Hunger Games, which took place earlier in the evening.

It wasn't that he found Haymitch’s company…unappealing, per say, but he didn't really have much in common with the older drunkard and therefore, never really went out of his way to speak with him.

However, Finnick was aware of Haymitch’s way of being…resourceful when need be, which was why he was such a key part in the rebellion, so it wasn't a surprise that he managed to find out where Finnick lived. He was was surprised, however, at the words that came out of his mouth once he stumbled his way into his apartment.

“I need your help, Fishboy.” he slurred, making himself comfortable on Finnick’s back leather couch.

“Why, Haymitch, I have to say I’m a bit surprised, I never would've thought you swung that way,” Finnick said lightly, his tone teasing, “while I’m flattered that you chose me to be your nighttime companion, I’m afraid to tell you I don't take walk ins, you’ll have to make an appointment with Snow—“

“Cut the crap, Fishboy, I’m not here for the red light special.” Haymitch said, glaring up at Finnick with blood shot, grey eyes, that—despite the amount of liquor Finnick could smell from his spot across the room—remained about as sober as Finnick could ever remember seeing on Haymitch.

Finnick chuckled, “Then to what do I owe this pleasure, dear Haymitch? It isn't every day that I’m graced with your lovely presence.”

Ignoring Finnick’s sarcasm, Haymitch’s eyes looked around his apartment, his eyes taking in every detail—a gesture Finnick recognized as one every Victor of the Games did before getting completely comfortable in a room. Assess possible threats, look for possible weapons, plan an exit strategy.

“You got any liquor around here?” Haymitch asked, once he decided there were no imminent dangers lurking in the shadows of Finnick’s sparse apartment.

Wordlessly, Finnick walked over a cabinet off to the side of the living room, digging around inside of it for a few minutes before he returned, placing two heavy glass tumblers on the coffee table and filling them about halfway with amber liquid.

Haymitch didn't bother with pleasantries.

He just grabbed the glass and brought it up to his chapped lips and downed the whole thing in one go.

Finnick simply twirled his in his glass, watching the alcohol inside rotate from one side of the glass to other.

“You gonna drink that or play with it?” Haymitch asked.

With a roll of his eyes, Finnick set the glass on the table, sliding it over to Haymitch’s waiting hand. He gave a sarcastic grin, silently toasting Finnick before he downed the glass, slamming it back down on the glass table top when he was finished.

Finnick didn't even bother reprimanding him—he honestly could care less what happened with his furniture. It wasn't really his, anyway, just another reminder of Capitol’s never ending _generosity_.

“Now that you’ve consumed most of my liquor stash,” Finnick said dryly, “you mentioned something about needing my help?”

Haymitch gave a small nod, eyeing Finnick warily before he began, “Katniss, as I’m sure you’ve heard, has caused quite the…disturbance in the Captiol and has brought a lot of attention to herself and by extension, her family. She has become quite the…desired asset and now that she’s attempted to stick one to Snow with those berries—“

“You think he’s going to try to sell her?” Finnick asked.

Haymitch gave a stiff nod, “But I don’t think it’ll be to rake in Captiol revenue.”

“You think he wants to break her?”

Another stiff nod.

Now, Finnick was slightly confused, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do about that. I mean, I could probably convince Snow to let me…train her and start her off with some of my nicer clients but—“

“I need you to convince Snow that you want to settle down,” Haymitch said, cutting him off, giving him a meaningful look.

Finnick couldn't prevent the derisive snort if he tried, “With Katniss Everdeen? Haymitch, I think you’ve had too much to drink because there’s no way Snow will go for—“

“Don’t tell me you’re doubting your acting skills _now_ , Odair?” Haymitch goaded.

Finnick glared, “Do you not recall what happened the last time I told Snow that I wanted to settle down? Annie ended up dead, along with her entire family and now you’re sitting here, trying to convince me that the same thing won’t happen to Katniss and here family?”

Haymitch sighed, “Sweetheart’s in no danger of being killed, Snow’s not that much of an idiot, he knows it’d look just a tad too suspicious if everyone’s favorite victor wound up dead just a few weeks after the Games,” Finnick didn't want to admit it, but he had a point, “Snow just wants to make sure he has her…obedience. He wants to snuff out the fire’s that she’s started when she volunteered for her sister and in order to do that, he’s gonna give her the same deal he offered you.”

Finnick fought against the bile that rose in his throat at the reminder of his deal with Snow.

_“Keep the citizen’s of the Capitol happy or risk the death of everyone and everything you hold dear, Mr. Odair.”_

Finnick gripped the bridge of his nose, rubbing his closed eyes harshly, “So what is your plan exactly? Woo her for a little while, make it look like we’re in love? Then what? Get married, have kids and watch them grow up right underneath Snow’s nose and watch them die in an arena?”

“You know it won’t come to that.” Haymitch said, pouring himself another drink.

“Has all that liquor made you blind?! Snow will never pass up the opportunity to have the child of two victors thrown into the arena—“

“It won’t come to that, because we have a plan.” Haymitch cut off his rantings.

Finnick raised a sardonic eyebrow, “Oh yeah? Care to inform me of that then?”

Haymitch smirked, “Classified information, Fishboy, and you’re on a need to know basis.”

Finnick glared, unimpressed.

 

Haymitch sighed, “Look, the way I see it, you have one of two choices. You can pretend to fall in love with Katniss, date her, marry her and all of your…engagements magically disappear. You save our best shot at the rebellion from being sold over and over again and we all live happily ever after without the Hunger Games and without the tyranny of Snow. Or, we watch our best shot at the rebellion become another fancy piece in the Captiol’s games and you continue to live the rest of your life with the playboy image that the Capitol has forced you into, mentoring kid’s for slaughter and the awful of the world continues on in an endless cycle until the next generation grows sick of it and attempts to stop it.”

Finnick looked out the window, down at the busy streets with the Capitol citizens milling about, partying and celebrating the newest victor of the Hunger Games. He thought of his standing three months in the Capitol, filled with endless appointments with Capitol official’s and their wives and the never ending gala’s and parties he was forced to attend.

He thought of the nights he had to spend one on one with the endless string clients in upscale hotel rooms, trading secrets for the pleasure of his company. He thought of the nights he’d stay up, unable to sleep due to the nightmares that plagued his unconscious after a long night in the presences of Captiol citizens that did nothing but serve as a painful reminder of his time in the games. He thought of the children he’d mentored in the last ten years and how many of them had died within the first week in the arena.

Finally, he thought of Annie.

Annie, who was just as messed up by the horrors they’d witnessed in the arena, but was still able to keep this air of innocence about her. Besides Mags, she was the only source of positivity in his world, the only thing he could hold onto during nights when he had to don the playboy persona Snow had forced him to wear like a shield the day he turned sixteen and was deemed old enough to be sold as an object of pleasure to the drooling, superficial citizens of the Capitol.

He remembers the nights that were really bad, when he had a particularly long night of clients, the feeling of her body wrapped around his erased the feelings of harsh touches and caresses from others, the smell of the ocean that lingered on her skin blocked out the false perfumes and colognes straight from the Capitol. Annie, who, due to his own stupidity and selfish desires, was just another name added to the long list of innocent lives lost because of Snow and his need for control when it came to the victors.

“When do I start?”

It was agreed, after a long discussion on what they thought was best, that Snow, for the time being, wouldn't know about it. Finnick would meet Katniss during her trip to Four on her Victory Tour and they’d go from there. Katniss, they decided, wouldn't know about it either, not until they felt the time was right. Haymitch knew that it wouldn't got over well with Katniss to play into another romance, not after Peeta.For now, it was decided that it would be best that Finnick start off with a…friendship, of sorts, with her and see how she reacted.

“All of this trouble for a tribute, Haymitch? Don't tell me you’ve started to care now.” Finnick teased as he escorted a rather inebriated Haymitch out the door.

“Sweetheart’s not bad, once you get to know her,” Haymitch said thoughtfully, “she’s a tough one, a fighter and she’s the best shot at getting us the hell out of this shitty world and out from under Snow.”

Haymitch paused at the door, “Take care of her, Odair, she’s…been through a lot and she may try to act like she doesn't need someone, but she does. She spends too much time protecting other people that she doesn't watch out for herself and she needs someone who’ll protect her and have her best interests at heart.”

“Doesn’t she have you?” Finnick asked.

For the first time since Finnick has known him, Haymitch seemed to wear each sip of alcohol he’s every drank.

“Someone who’s not drunk half the time.” He elaborated gruffly, before giving Finnick a two finger salute and he disappearing out the door.

Finnick shook his head at the memory, bringing himself back into the present.

He wasn't really sure how he was supposed to go about this little mission Haymitch had assigned him and get it done without Katniss suspecting anything was amiss or any foul play. She was a smart girl and she didn't trust easily, that much Finnick could tell, but any guilt that he felt about not being completely honest with her, was overshadowed any time he thought about Katniss being subjected to the lifestyle that was forced upon him and many other victors that he knew.

And Snow…Finnick wasn't sure what Snow would do when he found out about them, because nothing got past Snow, he had eyes and ears everywhere and with both of them being victors—her the most recent, and him being the Capitol spotlight. He knew that he was going to have to play this as safely as possible, too much was at stake for this to fail.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katniss watched from her perch on a rock as the sun began to peak out from the trees, thought it did nothing to quell the chill that had enveloped District Twelve since her return from the Capitol. Her bow was propped up beside her, her quiver of arrows resting on the ground. Her game bag was slung across her body, but it didn't have much to show for the two hours she’d been out in the woods. She’d woken up from a nightmare—the same one she’d been having since her first night out of the games. It was a montage of everyone that died in that arena because of her. Marvel, Cato, Glimmer, Rue and…Peeta. Peeta was always the last one thing she saw before she screamed herself awake.

Him and his never ending charm and patience with her, the way he protected her and fought for her until the very end. She wasn't sure if she loved Peeta, but she knew for sure that she could have, if they lived in a different world where they’re was no such thing as the Hunger Games or President Snow. The guilt of not being able to keep him alive, to save him from the same fate as the twenty-two other kids that went into the arena with him, ate her alive and attacked her at night, when she was at her most vulnerable.

When she came back from the Capitol and she looked out into the crowd of people she’d known since she was a kid—more so those from the Seam rather than the Merchants that lived in town—the joy at seeing her mother and Prim and Gale almost completely vanished when she caught sight of Mr. Mellark, who offered a sad smile. It took everything in her to fight back the tears that rose in her eyes. She’d murdered his son. She watched her son die and did nothing to try and save him. Needless to say, she didn't sleep much that night. Or any night there after.

And now, in less than four hours, she’d be back on the train as she toured Panem on the Victory Tour, visiting the Districts and looking into the eyes of the parents of children she killed. While she was supposed to be attending parties held in her honor, they would still be there, grieving and trying to live without a piece of their family. A piece that she took from them, in some form or another.

A twig snapped behind her, breaking her out of her thoughts.

Body tensing, she whirled around, grabbed her bow, loaded an arrow and had it pointed at her target before she could even take her next breath.

“Easy there, Catnip, it’s just me.” Gale said, throwing his hands up in a placating gesture.

She lowered her bow, but she didn't relax, “Damn you, Gale! How many times have I told you to stop sneaking up on me like that?!” She snapped, tossing her bow to side.

Gale simply grinned at her, plopping down next to her, eyeing her empty game bag, “You’ve been out here for two hours and you haven’t managed to shoot anything?”

Katniss didn't even try to explain to him that the reason she didn't actively hunt anything was because every time she had an animal within the sights of her bow, she was suddenly back in the games and the squirrel that, before the Games, she had no problem shooting, turned into Marvel or Glimmer or Rue and she couldn't bring herself to release the arrow.

Instead, she asked, “How’d you know I’d been out here that long?”

“I stopped by to see if you were home and Prim told me she heard you get up and that you hadn't returned by the time she’d gone down stairs.” Gale answered, absentmindedly twirling an arrow between his fingers.

Katniss tried to block out the image of Clove and the way she’d twirl her knives when she was bored and instead, focused on the fact that her nightmares were effecting Prim’s sleep as well as her own.

“Well, do you wanna hunt or do you wanna go to the Hob, I heard Greasy Sae—“ Gale tried, trying to cover up the awkward silence that had settled around them, but Katniss cut him off.

“Actually, I need to be heading back, my prep team will be here in an hour to get me ready for the Victory Tour.” Katniss said, standing up and collecting her bow and quiver and began walking back in the direction of the fence.

“So that’s it then? That’s all you’ve got say to me?” Gale demanded as he jogged to catch up with her.

“What do you want me to say to you, Gale?” Katniss snapped, turning around to face him, “do you think I want to go on this stupid tour and parade around in front of the families of the kids that I murdered in that arena? You have no idea wha—“

He shook his head, “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.” He said, cutting her off.

Katniss looked away from his insistent dark eyes, suddenly feeling like a deer she had in the sights of her bow, “You’re my best friend Gale and nothing more, no amount of thinking will change my mind.”

And it wouldn’t.

Katniss had decided along time ago, when her father dies and she watched her mother fall into a despair that not even her or Prim could bring her out of, that she would never fall in love or get married or have kids. It wasn't something she kept secret, in fact she was sure she had ranted to Gale about it several times, she even discussed it on Reaping Day, so the last thing she expected on that Sunday she returned from the Capitol, was to have Gale kiss her and tell her that he loved her. Gale, as far as she was concerned, was nothing more than her best friend and hunting partner.

She wasn't blind; Gale was a good looking man, he could hunt and he was nice, in his own way and she knew he’d make a good husband one day. And as far as she knew, Gale felt the same thing, that she was nothing more than a friend and a hunting partner. For so long, their relationship was defined by the mutual survival of their families after their fathers died and now, there were things in her life that Gale couldn't even begin to comprehend. The nightmares. The guilt. And now that she had won the Games, she was now expected to mentor two kids from their District and watch them die in the arena.

_“The Games are never over.”_

This was her life now and judging by how well Gale took to the idea of the Victory Tour, he would never want to understand or would be willing to understand the rest of it. As far as Katniss was concerned, she was just as bad as President Snow.

“Yeah you're right, I guess it takes a cave and life threatening wound to do that.” Gale snapped.

_Smack!_

The sound reverberated through the empty field, bouncing off of the trees and echoing through Katniss’ ears. She focused on the stinging in her hand from the slap she delivered to Gale’s face instead of the sting of tears in her eyes at his words.

“Just because I don't return your feelings, Gale, doesn’t give you the right to treat me like dirt.” She whispered fiercely, glaring at a remorseful Gale harshly.

“Katniss I’m sor—“

“I’ll see you when I get back, goodbye, Gale.” She muttered, turing on her heel and darting for the fence line.

She kept her head down as she made her way through town, not wishing to talk to anybody or let them see her this upset over a jealous comment.

The only stop she made was to Ripper to grab Haymitch a couple of bottles of liquor before she fled for the Victor’s Village where her new home resided. Not bothering to knock, Katniss barged into Haymitch’s house, ignoring the heavy scent of booze and mold that met her senses as soon as she walked through the front door. She navigated her way through the piles of trash and dirty dishes that littered the living room. She wasn't surprised when she sound Haymitch passed out on the kitchen table, a bottle of booze in one hand and a knife in the other.

Katniss found an empty pitcher and after filling it to the brim with ice cold water, she stood about six feet from his lifeless body and promptly dumped the water on top of his greasy blonde mop he called hair.

“Arggghh, what the hell?!” Haymitch shouted, jumping from his position in the chair, waving his knife in the air with one hand and desperately trying to shove his wet hair out of his face with the other.

Katniss felt the amusement bubble up in her chest and despite her best efforts, a small laugh escaped her lips.

Bloodshot grey eyes landed on hers, “I’m glad I can offer you amusement, Sweetheart,” Haymitch muttered, his hand immediately going for the nearest bottle of liquor and frowning when he found it empty.

Katniss rolled her eyes, jumping off of the counter she had placed herself on during his drunk shuffle and dropped her peace offering on the table.

Haymitch grunted his thanks, raising the bottle in her direction in a mock salute, before taking a giant swig and promptly belched once he swallowed.

Katniss didn't even try to keep the disgust from her face as she made her way over to the back door, “The camera’s will be here in an hour, take a bath or something.”

“It’s way too early to be dealing with this shit.” She heard him mumble and she couldn't help but agree with him.

~~~

Katniss stared at herself in the mirror and she didn't recognize the girl staring back at her. She had been waxed and combed and groomed and plucked until she was smooth and imperfection free. She had been scolded about the state of her eyebrows and the dark circles underneath her eyes and Katniss had to refrain from snapping at Flavious.

Cinna, who must have noticed the state of her discomfort, quickly swept her away to her room so she could change into the outfit she would be wearing to the train station. She was thankful for the simple, yet fashionable outfit Cinna had put her in. A hunter green sweater, light brown pants tucked into knee high dark brown leather boots. If the outfit wasn't worth more than most of her belongings put together, it might be something she’d wear out into the woods for a usual day of hunting.

The frilly dresses and heels were no longer apart of her wardrobe and she couldn't be more thankful. At least in this outfit, she felt more like herself. She didn't feel like she was playing a part; the simpering girl who would do anything to save the boy she loved. This time, she was a warrior who survived the games and was mourning the loss of her District partner who died to ensure her survival.

“Beautiful.” Katniss was drawn out of her thoughts by Cinna, who’d been putting the final touches on her outfit—adjusting the fit of the sweater so it fit a bit more snug on her frame, tucking a stray strand of hair back into place that had escaped the simple half up, half down style Octavia had place it in and touching up any stray lines of make up.

Katniss offered him a small smile, “Of course it is, you designed it.”

“An artist is only as good as his canvas,” Cinna replied, squeezing her shoulders briefly.

“Are you ready for this?” He asked her, helping her into the dark brown leather jacket—the final touch to her over all ensemble.

She gave a small smile when she noticed how closely it resembled her dad’s hunting jacket.

“As I’ll ever be.” She replied warily.

Cinna smiled, “I’m still betting on you, Girl on Fire.”

Katniss smiled, her first genuine smile since returning home from the Games.

_I’m glad someone is._


	2. Peace by the Ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those who have read this and reviewed it, it’s means so much to me and I happy to see that it’s been well receive so far. Forgiving any errors, I’m posting this at 1:15 in the morning and I was anxious to get it up. Hope you enjoy

Katniss stared at the large metal double doors in front of her and tried to quell the panic that was steadily rising in her chest at the thought of walking through them and looking into the harsh and accusing eyes of District Eleven.

 

Rue’s District.

 

She could hear Effie’s high voice speaking to her, reminding her to smile and of the cards grasped tightly in her sweaty and shaky hands, where Effie had already written and prepared the words Katniss was supposed to say today. She could feel her prep team touching up her make up, making the final adjustments to her hair, could feel Cinna adjusting her dress, fixing a hem, shining her simple jewels so they shined just right and if she focused had enough, she could hear Haymitch gulping down the liquor in his trusty flask that hadn't left his hand since they had boarded the train the night before.

But all she could see were those metal doors that were separating her from a crowd who didn't want see someone who had a hand in killing two members of their District and listen to a scripted speech about the Games and her struggle and the generosity of the Captiol.

 

And Rue’s eyes as she laid in a mess of netting and grass, her head Katniss’ lap as she struggled to hold on to the last few minutes of a life that shouldn't have ended with a spear to the stomach and the whole country of Panem watching for entertainment.

 

For a moment, Katniss let herself wish that Peeta was here with her, that instead of the lightweight of the notecards in her grasp, it was the heavier, warmer and sturdier weight of his hand in hers that never failed to keep her grounded and reassure her with a quick squeeze or a brush of his thumb.

 

And for another moment, she let herself wish that it was Peeta in her place instead of her. He was the natural charmer, with his compassion and kindness radiating from like a beacon in the dark, he was sweet and humble and he always knew what to do when it came to times like these; delicate with his words, but strong with his gestures. He gave hope to people who had never even heard of the word, let alone it’s definition and he was brave in his acceptance of death and his openness to love her knowing it would only end in tragedy.

 

Peeta should have won the Games and Peeta should be the one standing here, offering his condolences and offering a compassionate word that was all his own and not written for him like the notecards that suddenly burned against the dampness of her palm.

 

_“And now I give you, Victor of the 74th Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen!”_

The announcement rang loudly in her ears and brought her out of her bitter thoughts and back into present.

 

_I am Katniss Everdeen from District Twelve and winner of the 74th Hunger Games. I am in District Eleven to deliver a speech to the families of children I had a hand in killing. Thresh. Ru—_

“Showtime! Now, remember Katniss, smile nice and big and to read from the cards I’ve prepared for you!” Effie titters, her nails digging into Katniss as guides her closer to the slow opening double doors.

 

Katniss can feel the panic rising in her throat and she ignores her instincts screaming at her to run, back to the train, back to District Twelve, back to her house in the Seam and the woods and Prim and Gale and Peeta. _Peeta_ who should be here with her, but then the doors are opening and the sunlight momentarily blinds her and she’s reminded of when she first rose from the tunnel and into the arena, the blinding false sunlight and the feeling is so _familiar._

 

But then, she remembers standing on that platform, listening to the clock countdown and swallowing any last minute panic, squaring her shoulders and focusing her mind on the Games and surviving. And just like the arena, Katniss tried to swallow her panic, square her shoulders and survive the next two weeks.

 

_“I’m still betting on you.”_

Cinna’s words loosened the knot in throat and staring out into the sea of worn and tired faces of the citizens of District Eleven, the notecards she held in her grasp felt like a loaded gun; if she read the words that were so far from her own, she felt like she’d be killing Thresh and Rue all over again and this time, the blood would be on her hands instead of the Capitol’s. She couldn't do that to them, especially Rue.

 

So she tucked them into the pocket of her dress and licking her dry lips, she tried to find the words to bring some form of…compassion to these people and in some way, give them something to hold on to.

 

“I have no idea what I’m can to say to make your pain any easier and in my own experience, there’s no amount of words that makes the pain of losing someone, diminish or even make it bearable,” Katniss began, her eyes searching through the crowd and instead of the hostile gazes she was expecting, she was only met with respect, “it’s obvious that two members of your District are missing and believe me when I say, I wish it wasn't because I’m alive when they so clearly aren’t and the cost of their lives are, in some ways, at my hands.”

 

Her eyes connected with a pair of women who stood in the back of the courtyard they were gathered in, on a raised platform, underneath a picture of Thresh and it cut her to the bone when she realized, at the lack of younger or older children, that Thresh was an only child.

 

“I want to give my thanks to the tributes of District Eleven,” she said after a brief moment of silence, and once she made eye contact with whom she assumed was Thresh’s mother, she elaborated, “I didn't know Thresh, I only spoke to him the one time, when he spared my life. But I always respected him. For his power and for his refusal to play the games on anyone’s terms but his own.”

 

For this first time since she’d stepped out onto the steps of the Justice Building, she made eye contact to the small family on the other side of courtyard. Rue’s family. Katniss felt the pang in her chest and her eyes well with tears when she noticed her littler sister, who couldn’t be more than nine, was the spitting image of Rue. Her willowy frame, her soft mocha skin, her wide, innocent eyes and her untamable curls.

 

“But I do feel as if I knew Rue, and she’ll always be with me,” Katniss could feel the knot forming in her throat, making nearly impossible for her to speak, “everything beautiful brings her to mind. I see her in the yellow flowers that grow in the meadow by my house, I hear her in the mockingjays that sing in the trees, but most of all, I see her in my little sister, Prim.”

Taking a shaky breath, she wills the tears in her eyes to retreat back into her body, she’s almost finished, she can do this, “Thank you for your children.” Making eye contact with the rest of the crowd, she finishes, “And thank you for all the bread.”

 

The silence Katniss is met with is stifling and she stands there, hands shaking, her heart pounding and few tears that she had fought so desperately to hold back, making there way silently down her cheeks.

 

Someone whistles Rue’s four note song and then, slowly, as if rehearsed, every person in the crowd, in unison, kisses the first three middle fingers of their left hand and raise them silently to her.

 

_Thank you_

She hears it as if it was spoken out loud and their acceptance of her apology, of her sorrow and her thank you to them, wraps around her like a warm blanket of reassurance and for a few moments, she allows the small smile spread across her face. The unity she feels with these people, the understanding, is overwhelming in every sense and for the first time in since Prim’s name had been pulled from the reaping bowl, Katniss feels at peace.

 

That peace, however, is ruined, when Peacekeepers in their gleaming white uniforms, make their way through the crowd, pulling their weapons, beating people with the butts of their guns, shoving them out of the way and out of the corner of her eye, she sees a Peacekeeper pull the old man that whistled Rue’s song and drag him to the steps that she's standing on.

 

She feels hands pull her backwards, hears the wide doors being shoved open and she watches, a silent scream building in her throat as she sees through the quickly closing doors, the Peacekeeper shove the man to his knees and place the gun to the back of his head.

 

The closing doors to nothing to muffle the gunshot or prevent Katniss from seeing the man fall forward, the crimson of his blood staining the pristine marble steps she had been standing on not seconds before. 

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

It was decided after the incident in District Eleven, that Katniss would read whatever Effie wrote on the notecards and nothing else.

 

She stuttered her way through peppy and upbeat speeches that thanked the bravery of the tributes of each District, their sacrifices so she could go back to her mother and sister and the importance the Hunger Games has on the country of Panem. She grimaced her way through banquets held in her honor and attempted to eat the food that was prepared with her in mind, but whenever she thought back to the angry glares she received at the end of her robotic speeches or the crying parents or siblings of dead tribute’s, she found it harder and harder to stomach anything than the tea  her mother gave her to help her with her nightmares.

 

Nightmares, which had not eased up at all and if anything, had gotten worse now that she was confronted with her fellow tributes families. It was a rarity for her to get a meager three hours of sleep each night. Most nights, when she had woken herself up from the screams that made her throat raw for the umpteenth time, she’d detangle herself from damp sheets and wander the train she was trapped in for the next foreseeable future.

 

More often than not, she’d find herself in Peeta’s old room, where she’d curl up in sheets she convinced herself still smelled like him and stare out the window at the scenery that they flew past at a speed, that if she thought to much on it, made her stomach coil with nausea and the panic that seemed to have become a part of her, rise to unbearable levels.

 

It wasn't until they reached District Four that she got a chance to escape the company of Effie, Haymitch and her prep team and to look at something other than the four walls of a Justice Building and the train that had become her new prison until she returned home in five days time.

 

There was an error in scheduling, resulting in an hour of free time before she was to become a victim to her prep team for the banquet that would be held in her honor at one of the nicer hotel’s in a few hours.

 

So when Haymitch went off in search of a place to drink in peace and Effie was busy fretting over a screwed up schedule and her prep team left to scour the District for new fashion ideas, Katniss escaped to the a place she had never dreamed of seeing in person, let alone actually getting to explore.

 

The beach.

 

While it wasn't the woods or the meadow, the wide expanse of the white sand and the rolling blue-green waves was just as beautiful. The smell of salt in the air from the sea was just as soothing as the pine from the trees back home and the soft, warm sand between her bare toes was just as comforting as cool leaves by the lake in summer.

 

Katniss walked the few feet to the wet sand and something like childish laughter bubbled up in her chest at the slight tickle when cool ocean water met her bare feet.

 

She walked the shore line, marveling at the glittering seashells she found along the way and she immediately thought of Prim and with a smile she hadn't worn in what felt like years, she combed the sand carefully with her eyes, picking up the ones she thought Prim would like, brushing the sand off of them gently, before placing them in her pocket of the mid thigh length shorts she pulled on before she left her room.

 

After a short amount of wandering, Katniss found a high spot in the sand and sat down, digging her shells out of her pocket and placing them in the sand in front of her to look at them closer.

 

She was was so enraptured by the shells, she barely heard a voice, that sounded vaguely familiar, shout her name in warning. Confused, Katniss looked up just in time to see a giant wave building, curling, before it crashed against the shore and the heavy flow of water headed straight for her.

 

Eyes widening in surprise, she nimbly jumped up from her sitting positon, just in time for the water to crash against her knees. However, she hadn't quite gained her footing and wasn't prepared to bare the brunt of weight of the water and with slightly panicked yelp, she found herself flying backwards, but before she could fall on her butt like she was expecting, a strong pair of arms caught her around the waist and helped bring her back into a standing position.

 

Caught off guard and embarrassed, Katniss stumbled away from the very warm, very _bare_ chest of her savior, body tensing to defend herself. A warm chuckle broke her out of her momentary panic and her eyes snapped up to a pair of amused sea-green ones.

 

“Not even in my presence for five minutes and already, I’ve got you soaking wet. I must say, girl on fire, you sure know how to make a guy feel like his attention’s warranted.”

 

Bronze hair a mess on his head, glinting sea-green eyes, chiseled nose, sensual lips with the perfect cupid’s bow and a long, toned, tanned body, Finnick Odair, Victor of the 65th Hunger Games and Capitol Sex symbol stood before her in all of his half naked glory, looking at her like she was the most entertaining spectacle he’d seen in ages.

 

Although she could feel her cheeks flush at the obvious sexual innuendo, Katniss stared unimpressed at a smirking Finnick.

 

“Clever,” she drawled, “Do all the desperate Captiol woman fall to your feet when you talk to them like that, Odair?”

 

Something flickered in his gaze, but before Katniss could figure out what, it was gone, amusement back in full force.

 

“Some,” he allowed with a nod, “but most of the time, they’re so distracted by my looks, I could recite the alphabet and they’d find it the sexiest thing they’ve ever heard.”

 

Katniss scoffed, “Charming.”

 

“So I’ve been told, quite a few times actually.” Finnick grinned, choosing to ignore her obvious contempt.

 

Katniss rolled her eyes and not wishing to spend not even a second longer breathing the same air as someone like him, she turned on her heel and began walking, desperate to put at least twenty feet between her and the Capitol playboy, her previous tranquil mood soured.

 

“Is that your way of thanking someone who just saved you from a possible drowning?” Finnick called and it irritated her to hear the laughter in his smooth voice.

 

“Just be thankful I didn't kill you for sneaking up on me, you of all people should know better than to sneak up on a Victor.” Katniss called, turning to look over her shoulder at a smirking Finnick, who was closer than she expected.

 

He looked down at her, raising an eyebrow, “Aren’t you forgetting something, girl on fire?”

 

Katniss bristled, “If you think I’m thanking you by kissing you or something, you’ve got another thing com—“

 

“I was simply talking about your impressive collection of seashells, but if you’re offering, well, I’m more than happy to receive.” He said with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

 

“I think I can think of a better way to invest my winnings than wasting it on hour of your company.” Katniss replied.

 

Finnick outright laughed, “I haven’t dealt with things as common in money as years.”

 

Katniss raised an eyebrow, “Oh? Then how do the citizens of the Captiol pay for your services?”

 

Finnick gave her a small smile, a glint in his eyes that made Katniss pause, her curiosity spiking. Finnick closed the few feet between them, his eyes raking up and down her body in a way that made her heart race and her cheeks warm from the attention.

 

He leaned down so close that Katniss could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, smell the salt from the sea and the sweat that gleaming on his tanned skin and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek.

 

“Secrets,” he whispered conspiratorially, his smile coy and his eyes dancing with mirth, “what do you say, girl on fire? Got any secrets worth my time?”

 

His breath was mint and pure sugar and his voice was low and smooth, seduction curling at the edges of his words and Katniss found herself slightly dizzy.

 

But she could see the amusement dancing in his eyes and she remembered that this was just a game to him and she refused to be like one of the many Captiol women who fell at his feet with a few whispered words and a bit of tan skin on display.

 

“Nope, I’m an open book,” Katniss finds herself saying, pulling away from his closeness, giving her body a chance to recover from whatever momentary lapse of insanity it seemed to experience, “everyone seems to know my secrets before I know them myself.”

 

Finnick smiled, “Unfortunately, I have to say that’s true,” the amusement was back in his gaze when he said, “you haven’t stopped blushing during our entire rendezvous, are you seduced by me, Katniss?”

 

Katniss ignored the slight shiver that went down her spine at the sound of his voice, curling around her name, his tongue caressing every letter and the way he flicked his tongue across his lower lip after he said it.

 

“More like nauseated,” she answered with a roll of her eyes, “Goodbye, Odair.”

 

“What about your seashells?” He asked after her, thankfully not following her as she walked past him, going back over the distance she had already covered, heading back to the spot she left her shoes so she could make back to the train station before her hour was up less she face the wrath of Effie and her reminder of _“schedules, schedules, schedules!”_

“Keep them,” She said over her shoulder, not bothering to hide her smirk, “as a token of my appreciation.”

 

He gave her a matching smirk, and even though she was quite a few feet away, she could picture the way his sea-green eyes were glinting with amusement, “It’s been a pleasure, girl on fire, make sure to save me a dance tonight.”

Katniss rolled her eyes, making her way through the sand, annoyed that most of her hour of freedom was spent with a narcissistic pig who only served to irritate her and make her wish she had stayed with Effie and listen her complain in her high Captiol accented voice about schedules and lack of manners.

 

But Katniss couldn't deny—when she was in the safety of her bedroom, where she was banished to shower by an outraged Effie at her damp and sandy appearance, that even though another banquet filled with people she didn't want to face and forced to stomach food against her nauseous stomach’s protests loomed in her near future—the lightness of her heart or the small smile that hadn't left her face since she left the beach.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Katniss shifted in her seat at one of the many elaborately decorated tables that were dotted around the ballroom of the hotel, ignoring the looks Effie was shooting her from across the table, and shifted her eyes around the room, still slightly taken aback by the grandiosity of the hall and the amount of effort that went into decorating the room.

 

In the other Districts, the banquet was usually a quiet affair held in the Justice Building, with just the Mayor and few other District officials and  previous District Victors of the Games in attendance.

 

It wasn't until Effie had reminded her that, because District Four was a Career District, they went to quite the extremes when it came to their stop on the Victory Tour. Katniss’ relief at not meeting the eyes of sobbing parents or hostile relatives or District citizens was short lived when she was actually _congratulated_ one winning the games from one of the parents of the tributes. The disgust that took over was like a cancer, slowly eating away at her insides and threatening to choke her if the night didn't end soon.

 

She hadn't caught sight of Finnick yet, not that she would admit to looking for him and she was slightly surprised. Usually, in the other Districts, Katniss met the District Victors as she walked in, shaking their hands as if she was some form of royalty visiting another form of royalty, and then the Major would give a small speech, welcoming her to their District and congratulating her on winning the Games then dinner would commence.

 

The night wasn't even half over and yet she’d already met Mags—a sweet, toothless old woman who won the Games way before Katniss was born and possibly her parents, and suffered a stroke which caused her speech to be slightly garbled, but Katniss was immediately at ease with her and understood her quite well.

 

Katniss almost asked why Annie—who won her Games a few years after Finnick and promptly went mad—wasn’t there, until she remembered Haymitch saying something about her death, that was apparently ruled as a suicide, but Katniss remembered the way he said the word, the slightly mocking edge to it led her believe that the Captiol and a certain President had something to do with it.

 

She was brought out of her musings when people began to get up from their chairs and head over to the buffet style tables set up on the other side of the room.

 

The thought of eating anything made Katniss want to vomit, but she didn't want to hear Effie give her yet _another_ lesson on on manners. With the help of Cinna, Katniss rose from her chair and tried not to trip in the heels she was forced to wear tonight as she made her way to long tables decorated with netting that, Katniss was guessing, was supposed to make the rows of seafood look like it was caught fresh this morning.

 

Katniss found herself looking dubiously at a particular platter that held some sort of grey colored fish with slimy looking skin and weird looking legs, when a warm body pressed up behind hers and a familiar scent of salt and sugar overpowered the different smells coming from the table of food.

 

“What’s the matter, girl on fire? Is this the first time you’ve seen a squid dead on a platter?” Finnick whispered teasingly, his warm breath fanning across her neck, his lips tickling the shell of her ear.

 

Katniss could feel herself flush and a warmth settle in her stomach, but she ignored it, “Are personal boundaries a foreign concept to you, Odair?”

She could feel his answering grin, “Usually the people that spend their time in my company don’t mind my closeness, but you, girl on fire, seem to mind a little _too_ much,” he observed, “do I make you nervous?”

 

Katniss scoffed, “Could you try harder to think any higher of yourself?”

 

He chuckled lowly, “I already know what I think of myself,” he replied, ignoring the fact that her question was rhetorical, “but what I wish to know is, what do you think of me Ms. Everdeen?”

 

“I think you’re about as appealing as that squid.” She said, ignoring his hand that had settled on her hip and the way she could feel the warmth of his skin, even through the sea-green fabric of her dress.

 

She met his glinting eyes—which, she noted with some annoyance, matched the color of her dress perfectly—as he moved to stand beside her, “You wound me, girl on fire.” he said with mock hurt, placing his hand over his heart as if she had physically injured him.

 

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help the small smile that danced on the edges of her lips, “I’m sure you’re ego will survive.”

 

He chuckled, reaching across her to grab a plate before piling it with food, trailing after her as she made her way down the table.

 

“What’s the matter? Is the food of my District not good enough for the girl on fire?” Finnick teased when he eyed her nearly empty plate, save for a roll with an odd green tint to it and a few shrimp.

 

Katniss found herself blushing, suddenly feeling self-conscious, “No,” she snapped, her cheeks flushing even more when she met Finnick’s oddly amused eyes, “I’m just not sure what most of the food is.” she added, her tone a bit more softer.

 

A small smile graced his perfect lips, his eyes softening and Katniss found herself slightly uncomfortable with the amount of affection in them, “Well, in that case, let me be your personal food guide.”

 

Finnick guided her down the table, telling her what a certain dish was called or naming a certain type of fish, pointing to it with his rather long and elegant tanned finger. He told her his favorite dishes and told her which ones to steer clear from.

 

It took them awhile, but when they finally filled their plates, Katniss headed back towards her table and she was surprised when Finnick sat in the chair right next to her, setting his plate down and immediately digging into his food.

 

Katniss looked down at her own plate and the nausea returned once again.

 

“I found it hard to eat at these things too, after my Games,” Finnick admitted softly, making Katniss look up to his sincere gaze, “I didn't think I deserved to enjoy things as simple as food because I killed innocent children, while the people around me practically celebrated the fact that I was a murder. It took me almost a year to even use a fork because it looked too much like a trident. Every time I speared a piece of food, it turned into someone I killed.”

 

He looked a bit sheepish at the admission and Katniss was sure she saw a blush rise to his cheeks, but she was more taken by the fact that he told her something that, to her, seemed quite personal, so casually and in a room full of people no less.

 

But looking around her, she noticed that people were too busy talking and laughing and gorging themselves on food to even pay attention to the two Victors whispering to each other about the horrors of their individual Games. Her table remained empty still, save for her and Finnick.

 

“I used to hunt, before the Games,” she said, surprising herself at the admission, “I had to, in order to feed my family but ever since I returned, every time I have an animal within the sights of my arrow, they turn into Marvel.”

 

“Was that the tribute from District One, the one who killed Rue? The one you shot with the arrow?” Finnick asked her softly, and she was thankful for his bluntness at asking the question and curious at his knowledge.

“Yes.” She said, “You watched my Games?”

 

Finnick gave her an amused look, “I’m a mentor, I have to watch them.”

 

“Oh,” she found herself blushing, “right.”

 

“I am sorry, by the way,” Finnick said and at her confused look, “Rue.” he added softly.

 

She gave a quick nod, looking down at the bright white table cloth, suddenly feeling uncomfortable at the amount of vulnerability she was showing at the moment. A comfortable silence settled over them and Katniss absentmindedly found herself taking a few bites of her food and her stomach rumbled softly when the delectable tastes exploded across her tastebuds.

 

Finnick followed her lead and began eating again and when they were done, scraping their plates and finishing off their drinks, Finnick held out his big, tanned hand in her direction.

 

At her quirked eyebrow, he smirked, “You were supposed to save a dance for me, remember?”

 

Katniss found herself smirking right back, “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

 

“I’m sure I can get you to see things my way,” he whispered with a seductive grin, his sea-green eyes twinkling with good humor.

 

“By threatening my life and my family’s lives?” Katniss deadpanned and she mentally winced at the dark humor.

 

Finnick, thankfully, just laughed, “No, girl on fire, I think you’ll find my tactics of persuasion much more…” his eyes raked down her body, taking in the snug fit of her dress around her chest and her waist, before his eyes met hers and she was annoyed with the way heart heart stuttered when she noticed those sea-green eyes darken, “…pleasurable.”

 

The way his lips curled around the word made them it drip with promise and Katniss found herself rolling her eyes, “I don’t dance, Finnick.”

 

“It’s Finnick, now, is it?” He teased with a raised eyebrow.

 

Katniss flushed, but rolled her eyes, “I would think with the amount of women who say your name on a daily basis, you wouldn't be apt to forget it.”

 

He smirked, “Oh trust me, girl on fire, they don’t just simply _say_ my name,” his eyes glinted with promise and Katniss ignored the _swoop_ her stomach gave at the sight, “Now, even if you don't dance, it’s expected at events like this and do you really want to be subject to a lecture from your escort about _manners_?” He asked, his voice going higher in a rather decent impression of the female Capitol accent.

 

Katniss could feel her resolve wavering and with a roll of her eyes, she grabbed Finnick’s hand and let him lead her out to the dance floor.

 

She tensed, however, when his hands landed on her hips and pulled her close to his body, uncomfortable with being that close to him in a room full of prying and curious eyes.

 

“Relax, Katniss,” He whispered in her ear, moving his right hand to the small of her back and grabbing her left hand in his large, warm one, “I don't bite.”

 

Katniss rolled her eyes, “Unless I tell you a secret, right?”

 

He chuckled and she could feel the vibration of his chest, “You catch on quick, though I’m willing to count that little tidbit at dinner a secret, if you really want me to.” He whispered and she tensed when she felt his lips brush her neck and at the reminder of sharing something so personal with a man she barely knows.

 

“The same could be said for you, Odair.” She said, her words biting and cold.

 

Finnick pulled away from her neck and she refused to soften at the regret in his eyes or the sincerity of his voice when he said, “I was joking, Katniss, I’m sorry.”

 

She simply nodded, looking away.

 

An awkward silence settled around them and Katniss remained stiff in Finnick’s hold. She searched around the room, desperate to find something else to stare instead of Finnick’s searching gaze she could feel on her face.

 

When she accidentally met his eyes again, she was caught off guard by the sincere look in his eyes.

 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” He whispered and for once, instead of the usual teasing or heavy suggestiveness she usually heard in his voice whenever it involved a direct comment towards her, she heard nothing but the upmost sincerity and genuineness in his tone.

 

Unsure how to handle this sudden change in character, Katniss shrugged and focused on the way he moved her around the dance floor, the gentle way he swayed her to and fro, the way his hand on the small of her back was gentle and almost soothing in it’s touch, and for a split second, she thought of Peeta and the way he held her when they were forced to stay in the cave, pressed up together in his sleeping bag as the steady drip of water coming from the roof of the cave lulled her to sleep.

 

She found herself smiling, despite herself, and when she looked up into Finnick’s honest eyes, that light feeling from earlier returned full force.

 

“Well, forgive my momentary lapse in eyesight, because it should've been the first thing I said to you this evening,” He continued, “You look breathtaking, girl on fire.”

 

She raised an eyebrow, amused, “Don’t you think you’re laying it on a little thick, Odair? Someone might over hear you and think you have a crush on me.”

 

He smirked, “That’s something I’ve never been accused of before, Everdeen, but no, I think I’m laying on the perfect amount of thickness,” and glancing down at her dress again, he added softly, “with the…familiar color of this dress, darling, one might think you had a crush on _me.”_

 

His smirk widened at her annoyed expression and for the first time ever, Katniss silently cursed Cinna for putting her in this dress.

 

“In your dreams, Odair.” Was her delayed reply.

 

Finnick gave her a suggestive grin, “Don’t temp me, girl on fire.”

 

With a quick spin that launched her from his body and made the skirt of her dress twirl, he brought her back in close, his lips landing on her cheek before they slid sensually over to her ear.

 

“It’s been a pleasure, Katniss.” He whispered, his tone honest and playful at the same time, her name leaving his lips in a caress that made her cheeks flush.

 

With another soft kiss to her flushed cheek, he stepped away, giving an over-exaggerated bow, and the last thing she saw was his sea-green eyes crinkling with the candor of his smile before he was gone.

 

Katniss ignored the disappointment in her gut as she walked off to find a member of her team and she blamed the dizziness on the quick spin Finnick gave her and not the way his lips felt against her skin.

 

Later, when Katniss walked into her room that night, she felt fatigued for the first time in a long time. But it wasn’t until she was out of her dress, fresh from a shower and in the comfortable pajama’s that she noticed a small, woven pouch sitting on top of the pillows of her freshly made bed.

 

Curious, she picked up the draw string pouch, noting the rough texture of the thick twine it was made out of and the intricate design that upon closer inspection, she knew to be a katniss flower—a rarity to find at the top of a katniss root, for which she was named for.

 

Pouring the contents out onto her bed, she could help the gasp that left her lips at the sight of two ornately made bracelets made from the same twine as the pouch and the seashells she had collected at the beach earlier that day. Seashells that she had left in Finnick’s possession.

 

She noticed a small slip of creamy white paper attached to the larger of the two bracelets and flipping it over in the palm of her hand, she read it silently.

 

_I assumed these seashells you collected today were to bring back to District Twelve as a present to your sister. I took the liberty of returning them to you, but instead of keeping them as plain old seashells that would sit on a shelf to collect dust, I wove them into bracelets so you and your sister would always have a piece of District Four to carry with you. Consider them a token of my appreciation._

_Yours,_

_Finnick_

_P.S. Feel free to come and visit me any time, and if you ever feel lonely, feel free to call me as well. Safe travels home._

 

Katniss blamed the tears in her eyes on exhaustion of the night combined with the lack of sleep she’d gotten on this entire Victory Tour.

 

Carefully placing Prim’s bracelet back in the pouch, she set it gently in the pocket of her bag she kept close to her bed. Looking closely at the bracelet laying on her bed, the one designed for her, she debated putting it back in the pouch along with Prim’s, but then she remembered the comfort the sea and sand brought her and lightness she felt at after she’d left, the tranquility that carried through into getting primped and preened by her prep team and slid it over her wrist slowly, for fear of breaking it.

 

Sleep came easy and nightmare free that night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know if you think I’m moving to fast with Katniss and Finnick’s relationship or if you think Katniss is opening up to quickly. I’m trying to keep them as true to character as possible, but obviously with my own little twists. And what do you guys think about a chapter in Finnick’s point of view? Feedback is welcome (:


	3. Surviving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By popular demand, here it is, a chapter in Finnick’s POV. Thank you guys so much for the amount of comments and favorites and overall love that has been given to this story. You guys help keep me going and I hope I’m making you happy. Apologize for any mistakes, I didn’t proof read this. If you wish, I listened to a lot of James Bay(who I literally just discovered and am now in love with) while writing this, songs like Scars, Let it Go, and Need the Sun to Break, which helped me get into a darker place with Finnick, so if you wanna listen to him and read, it might help. Or if you just wanna listen to him because he's amazing, that's cool too, because he is literally amazing. Happy reading (:

Finnick watched the shadows play across the swirling patterns imprinted in the shimmering white paint of another miscellaneous hotel room ceiling, trying in vain to keep the diseased thoughts from plaguing his mind. He could feel the disgust swirling though the pit of his stomach at the purple tinted Captiol woman draped across his chest like a cheap set of drapes and he was silently thankful that this was his last appointment of the night. 

 

Turning his head, he squinted his eyes against the bight light of the clock that rested on the nightstand next to him, giving a huge mental sigh of relief when the numbers informed him his appointment was up and he could leave. With that thought in mind, he disentangled himself non too gently from the woman currently clutching him like a child would a new toy. 

 

Throwing back the wrinkled white silk sheets, he quickly gathered his rumpled clothes and avoided looking in the steel framed mirror that hung on the wall across from the bed as he silently dressed himself. Not even sparing a glance at the woman still currently sleeping in the bed behind him, he made his way across the pristine white carpeting, passed the white walls and to the white door. He tried to find the humor in the fact that the color scheme seemed to be _white—_ the color of purity, virginal, while the actions that took place in the room were anything _but_. 

 

It only severed to make the disgust rise higher in his stomach and his already dark mood, darken any more. With a soft self depreciating snort, he quietly opened the door and walked silently down the halls, ignoring the lustful and knowing glances from the few people scattered in the lobby as he made his way to the glass doors.

 

It was dark, the streets almost deserted as Finnick navigated his way back to his apartment that was nestled in the heart of the Capitol.

 

His feet lead the way, muscle memory from the countless of times he walked this path, while his mind drifted. His mind wasn't a pleasant place to be, not after spending nights like this in the company of shallow people who did nothing but remind him of the horrors of his past and the horrors he continued to live through day in and day out. 

 

_Finnick Odair: Capitol darling._

 

_Victor of the 65th Hunger Games._

 

_Sex symbol._

 

He shook his head in disgust as he made his way into his apartment, slamming the door behind him with a loud _bang!._ He rested his head against the door, his whole body sagging with combination of fatigue and relief at the days events and finally being in familiar surroundings instead of the miscellaneous hotel rooms that blur together eventually after a long day of… _appointments._

 

Inhaling, he fought back the nausea that was threatening to rise in his throat when he smelled the heavy rose perfume that still lingered on his skin from his last client. With a sigh, he walked through the modern hallways, steel and grey and white mixing and blurring together as he made his way to his bedroom and headed straight for the bathroom. He stripped down, ignoring the scent of roses that hung in the air like smoke, threatening to suffocate him if he took one more breath. He looked over his broad, tanned shoulder, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His stomach twisted when he saw the scratches that marred the skin of his back, red and angry and raised at the edges and he knew those wouldn't be disappearing for a while. 

 

Finnick averted his eyes, not wanting to see the remains of the night he had or the reminders of those he spent it with and stepped into the shower, flipping it on the hottest setting he could find. Bracing his hands on the stone wall of the shower, he let the water cascade down his tired and worn body, letting it wash away lingering memories of nameless, faceless men and women, their touches and the feelings of self-loathing and hatred they left behind.  

 

He forced himself to think of something, _anything_ that wasn't the last twelve hours or so. He was slightly surprised when he found himself wondering about Katniss. 

 

She was an enigma, he’d learned in the spare moments of time he’d interacted with her. She was guarded and seemed to be in a constant state of contempt, eyeing everyone she came in contact with distrust—which was either her personality or a side effect of the Games, Finnick wasn't sure. She was annoyed by him, that much was obvious, but underneath it, he could see a curiosity and well hidden amusement whenever he flirted with her or teased her. He found himself wondering if he was the first guy, other than her deceased District partner, to express any interest in her in that way. The flush that blossomed on her cheeks and the weariness that took over her eyes told him that, yes, he was. At least, the only one that expressed such an obvious…sexual awareness of her. 

 

She wasn't beautiful in the usual standards or the fake way the Capitol had a fondness for; she wasn't an obvious beauty that struck him the moment he saw her, but she was striking in a way that he couldn't ignore. Her features were almost exotic—olive skin tone, keen grey eyes that were almost silver in their color and dark hair that tumbled down her back in waves, she was different than anything he was used to. She was lithe and curvy in her frame and held herself with a quiet confidence that automatically drew your eyes to her and made you aware of her presence in a room.

 

Her actions softened her somewhat abrasive personality and added to the over all mystery of Katniss Everdeen. While she tended to put up a front of being strong and impenetrable, Finnick had seen enough of her actions to know that there was more than what met the eye when it came to Katniss. Selflessly volunteering for her younger sister, allying with Rue, holding her in her arms, singing to her as she died and outlining her body in flowers in order to counteract the harshness of her death and give her a proper goodbye. Showing mercy to Cato when he was attacked by mutts, her dedication to keeping Peeta alive in arena and her tears when he died and allowing Finnick a glimpse into her mind when she admitted to her inability to hunt after the games and he took it for what it was—her way of reassuring him he wasn't alone in losing a part of himself in the Games. 

 

She reminded him, in a lot of ways, of Annie. 

 

Selfishly—other than saving someone from being condemned to his same fate—that was his only reason for doing this ruse of pursuing her and risking potentially putting himself in danger and pushing her higher up on Snow’s hit list. 

 

But, the more time he spent with her—which was not much, admittedly—he realized that maybe…he could grow to care about her. 

 

He admired her spirit, her defiance towards anything Captiol and her silent strength and determination he saw burning in her eyes as she stood on that stage in place of her sister. He liked the spark in her eyes when she was particularly annoyed by something he said, the quick and sharp wit that fell from the tip of her tongue in response and the smirk that danced on her lips afterwards. It amused him to no end when the heat would rise in her cheeks after he said anything remotely sexual to her; out of everything she’d seen and been through, one perfectly placed sexual innuendo could disarm her without fail. 

 

He felt the guilt rise in his stomach at the thought of hurting her when this all ended, whenever that may be. It made him feel slightly sick at the thought of building up her trust in him, learning about her thoughts and desires and secrets and fears, of kissing her and holding her and touching her and knowing that everything is a lie. 

 

He didn't even want to think of the possibility of having to sleep with her, but the effort was in vain and bile rose in his throat and remorse at something he hadn't even done yet, settled heavily in his gut like lead. 

 

He scrubbed aggressively at his skin, frustration at the situation he was forced into by Snow and the situation he agreed to for Haymitch, boiling over and his skin falling victim to it all. 

 

He was no better than the people that used him at night, for his body and looks, his facade of charms and seduction and the bragging rights that came with fucking a Victor. 

 

He chuckled in dark humor, _With the amount of clients he’d slept with since he was sixteen, two years after winning the Games, when Snow propositioned him with the usages of his body or it was his loved ones lives, there were no bragging rights left. There was no one in this god forsaken place that hadn't touched him or fucked him or sunk their nails into his flesh like knives, threatening to tear his apart his very being until he was nothing more than a beautiful shell of looks and false words of seduction and nothing left to save._

 

Finnick gripped his hair tightly between his shaking fingers, a sound that was anything but human tearing from his throat and echoing off of the walls of the shower, the sound of the pounding water on the tiles doing nothing to stifle it. Bitter tears welled in his eyes and they burned like acid when they made their way down his cheeks. His fist met the wall, the hard tiles licking across his knuckles and he welcomed the the breaking of skin on his knuckles and he ignored the crimson streaks marring the tan skin of his arm. 

 

He could feel a scream building in his throat and it took everything in him to hold it back. He wouldn't give his clients, the Captiol or Snow the satisfaction of breaking him. 

 

He fought back the fresh wave of tears and tightened his jaw, resolve slowly taking over the bitter taste of self-loathing and disgust and anger and frustration. He tensed hands into fists at his sides, ignoring the sharp stab of pain coming from his right hand, the ripped skin of his knuckles tearing even more at the movement. 

 

He couldn't save himself from this fate and he couldn't save Annie from the repercussions of loving him. 

 

Katniss was his chance to save someone from this dark and hellish abyss that was _surviving_ and he would hold on to it tightly with both of his hands and all of the strength he had left in his body. He would protect her from Snow’s angry and vengeful clutches and the envious and harsh hands of the adoring citizens of the Captiol, even if it took lying and deceiving to do it. 

 

Finnick was used to putting on a show for everyone and though the thought of treating her like he would one of his clients killed him, the thought of her turning into him made something ache inside of him. His only consolation was that he at least he got a choice this time. 

 

He chose to protect Katniss Everdeen and he was determined to protect her in the ways he couldn't protect Annie. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

His skin was pink and raw by the time he got out of the shower and the dark thoughts of his night had been shoved into another compartment of his mind to be dealt with later. 

 

He made his way into the kitchen, making himself a quick dinner from the leftovers in his refrigerator from the night before. Grabbing his plate, he padded into the adjoining living room, plopping down on the couch and flicking on the TV, Caesar Flickerman’s voice immediately filling the apartment with his over enthusiastic Captiol accented voice. Finnick ignored most of it, more interested in pushing his food around his plate instead of listening to speculation on the upcoming Quarter Quell. 

 

He looked up, however, when he heard Katniss’ name mentioned and he watched as they played her latest speech, from District 1. He couldn't help the amused smile that spread across his face at her robotic speech and her sorry attempts at looking genuinely thrilled to be there. He hadn't seen acting that bad since Johanna won her games. His smile fell when he noticed the circles underneath her eyes, beneath the carefully applied make-up. He noticed the slight droop in her shoulders and the fatigue in her silver eyes. It had only been three days since he’d seen her, but yet the changes he saw in her physical appearance made concern curl tightly in his chest. 

 

His eyes flickered down her body, but something around her wrist made him pause, both the TV and his movements. Curiously, he zoomed in and studied the image for a moment and once he realized what it was, the smile from earlier found it’s way back across his lips, but it lost the mocking edge and settled into something more genuine.

 

She was wearing the bracelet he’d made her and left her to find in her bedroom on the train. 

 

He’d been out walking the streets of Four that day, wanting to enjoy the familiar surroundings of home until he had to return back to the Capitol and he saw her make her way down the old wooden dock that led to his favorite section of the beach. He contemplating leaving her alone, knowing he’d see her later at the banquet Four was holding in her honor, but he decided that he wanted their first meeting should be in a casual setting, without the prying eyes of his fellow District members and he let his feet guide him a few paces behind her, careful to make himself as silent as possible. 

 

He saw the silent awe on her face as she took in the beauty and magnitude of the ocean for the first time, the child like wonder that spread across her face when she felt the sand on her bare feet for the first time and the unbridled joy on her face when she ran straight for the ocean and the laughter echoed across the deserted beach when the water touched her toes for the first time.

 

He watched her from a distance as she collected those seashells on the beach, the careful way she’d chosen them, her sharp eyes scouring every inch of the sand until she’d bend down and select one. He remembered being amused at the careful way she brushed the sand from their surface, reverently, as if they were made from the finest glass and they’d shatter at the slightest touch. He followed from a few yards behind her, collecting a few of his own to make a bracelet for Mags, slipping them in the pocket of his shorts. He watched as she did the same and something in him knew, from the careful selection and the way she’d treated them like fine china, that she was bringing those back to her little sister. 

 

He felt guilty about her leaving them behind when she walked away from him, so when he made his way back to his house in the Victor’s Village, he dug out some twine and looked over the impressive collection she managed to obtain in such a short amount of time. He chose a few he thought she’d picked out for her sister and wove them easily into a bracelet for her. Once he was finished, he eyed the left over seashells and staring at the now completed bracelet he made for Prim, he decided to make a similar one for Katniss. Picking a few colors he thought she’d like, he started to weave hers slowly, when one from his collection caught his eye. It was an iridescent grey clam shell he found near the water and originally, he was going to keep it and give it to Mags. However, the longer he stared at it, the more it started to remind him of the shade of Katniss’ eyes in the sun. Deciding that she might like the color, he gently placed it in the middle of the twine of the already half woven bracelet. 

 

The process helped clear his mind from any looming thoughts of the following day and when he was done, he decided to make a small bag to place them in so they wouldn't get lost. 

 

He was slightly surprised when he saw it’s appearance on her wrist, but he couldn't deny the small swell of pride in his chest at the thought of her liking his small gift, let alone liking it enough to _wear_ it. 

 

He was broken out of his thoughts when the phone rang beside him and not even bothering to check the number, he answered it. 

 

“Finnick,” He greeted, placing his plate on the coffee table before he leaned back into the couch, resting his head on the back of it. 

 

“Hello?” He prompted, confused when his previous greeting was met with silence. 

 

“Finnick?” A hesitant voice replied after a few beats of silence. 

 

His eyebrows raised in surprise, but he couldn't help the smirk that made its way across his face, “Ms. Everdeen, to what do I owe the pleasure of this particular phone call at this scandalous hour of the night? Miss me already?” He asked teasingly and his grin only widened at the annoyed sigh he heard on the other line. 

 

“I was just calling to thank you for the bracelets.” She replied formally and Finnick raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to the clock above his TV telling him it way past the time for social calls. It was an obvious lie, but Finnick let it slide. 

 

“A personal phone call from the girl on fire herself to thank _me?_ I feel special,” he said with a grin, “but, as much as I appreciate the special treatment, I feel that I must tell you that you could've waited to tell me in person tomorrow night at the Captiol party.” 

 

Another annoyed sigh made its way to his ears and he grinned, pleased. 

 

“Listen you pompous assho—“

 

“Easy there, girl on fire, I’m simply teasing you, find a sense of humor,” He chided lightly, “you’re more than welcome for the bracelets, there’s really no need to thank me.” He added sincerely. 

 

“Well, either way, it was very thoughtful of you to do that for Prim and I know she’ll appreciate the gift.” Katniss said, her voice still stiff, but Finnick could detect a note of genuineness. 

 

“I’m glad to hear it,” He said softly, slightly relieved, “I mean, not many people can say they’ve received personalized, one of a kind jewelry from _the_ Finnick Odair—“

 

Katniss scoffed, “Sorry Odair, I can't hear you over the size of your ego, what were you saying?” 

 

He laughed loudly, warmth curling in his chest at her familiar sarcasm. 

 

“Where’d you learn to make them anyway?” He heard her ask over his laughs. 

 

“My mentor, Mags, she taught me how after my Games and it’s something I’ve used over the years when I can’t sleep.” He admitted, rubbing his hand over his eyes. 

 

Katniss hummed, but didn't comment on his answer like he was expecting her. 

 

It was silent for a few moments, the only sound that could be heard over the the line was the sound of her breathing and he noticed the slight hitch in it and it suddenly hit him why she would be up this late at night. 

 

“Nightmares?” he asked softly, breaking the companionable silence that had settled around them. 

 

He heard her sharp intake of breath and he could practically hear the rebuttal on the tip of her tongue, before he heard her sigh and he felta rush of sympathy for her when he heard the amount of exhaustion and resignation in that small sound. 

 

“Yeah,” she admitted, “they’ve been getting worse, I hardly sleep anymore. It takes about a pound of makeup to cover up the dark circles, I think my prep team’s on the verge of drugging me just so I can look half decent.”

 

He was surprised with her candor and he blamed it on the lack of sleep she just admitted to. 

 

“We all get them,” he informed her, “and I wish I could tell you they get better over time, but after a while you find a way to cope with the demons in your mind.” 

 

“Like…sex?” She asked hesitantly 

 

Finnick laughed loudly, “Well, I was thinking something more along the lines of reading or painting or weaving, but if you're _offering_ —“

 

“I meant, is that how you deal with it? With sex, I mean.” she fumbled over the question and Finnick gave a small, rueful smile. 

 

“Something like that,” he murmured, “I usually keep a thing of rope by my bed and tie knots to clear my mind, or make jewelry for pretty Victors.” He added with a grin. 

 

He could almost hear the eye roll on the other end of the line, “Is that your special talent, Finnick?”

 

His smile turned lewd, “Why, I have many special… _talents,_ darling, ones I wouldn't mind showing you if you asked nicely,” he grinned wider at the huff he heard from her end, “but which one are you referring to?” 

 

“That! You turn everything into a way to sexually harass me or compliment me or just plain annoy me—“

 

“I didn't realize I affected you this much, girl on fire,” Finnick couldn't keep the grin off of his face if he tried. 

 

He heard an odd noise fall from the other end of the line and pulling the phone away from his ear, he stared at the slim device in disbelief. 

 

“Did you just growl at me, Ms. Everdeen?” He asked with a laugh, “I must say, I’ve made women make a lot of different noises in my time, but I’ve never elicited _that_ particular sound bef—“

 

“ _Finnick.”_

 

He grinned at her exasperation, “It’s all a part of my charm, darling.”

 

He was met with silence and for a moment, he thought he’d annoyed her enough that she hung up on him. He felt guilt trickle into his system like poison and just as he pulled the phone away to check to see if she had, in fact, hung up on him and in that case, he needed to call her back and apologize, he heard her voice. 

 

“Can you just, I don't know, try to have an actual conversation without turning anything remotely sexual?”

 

He paused, considering her question silently for a moment. 

 

Could he have an actual conversation without the usual sexual innuendos or heavy flirtation? It’d become a part of his routine for so long, he wasn't sure he could hold a conversation without it. It was all a part of this image that the Captiol had given him and one he was forced to portray in order to survive. He had to be flirtatious and seductive and charming in order to keep clients interested and he was so far into it that he wasn't sure what who was Finnick and who was Finnick Odair, _Captiol Sex Symbol._

 

“I’m not sure,” He answered honestly, suddenly very unsure of himself, “but I can try.”

 

“And if you fail?” Katniss asked. 

 

“So much faith, darling, so much faith,” he teased, “but, if this challenge that you’ve bestowed upon me proves to be too much for my self-control, then you, my darling Katniss, get to ask any personal question you wish to know about me.”

 

“What if I don’t want to know anything about you?” She countered indignantly. 

 

He sighed, but a smile danced on his lips, “You’re a hard woman to please, darling.”  

 

“A rarity for you, I’m sure.” She said dryly and he could picture the upturn of her lips. 

 

“Did the girl on fire just make a joke?” He teased with a grin. 

 

She ignored him, “Fine, Odair, I’ll take your deal,” She allowed, “but this doesn't make us friends.” She warned quickly. 

 

He chuckled, “I wouldn't dream of it, Everdeen.”

 

“What do you want in return?” She asked and he detected a note of hesitancy in her voice.

 

He knew she wouldn't be comfortable telling him all of her deepest darkest secrets and he wasn't sure if she would even want to tell him something as simple as her favorite color. Katniss was elusive and he knew that it would take time and patience and a lot of trust for her to open up to him, but he suddenly found himself wanting her to feel comfortable enough with him to do so. 

Until then, he settled for something simple 

 

“How about you save me a dance tomorrow night?” 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Finnick tried to keep the disgust from his face as he watched the Captiol citizens twirl in their elaborate outfits around the extravagant ball room of President Snow’s mansion, gorging themselves on the wide variety of dishes and desserts littered around the room. He found it revolting how much money the Captiol spent on things like this, but yet most of the Districts were starving and in desperate need of some kind of assistance. 

 

He shook his head, grabbing a glass of champagne and after making sure that it was in fact champagne and not a certain liquid that Captiol citizens were rather fond of, he finished the glass in one gulp. 

 

He caught sight of a familiar figure and a genuine smile crossed his face. Setting his empty glass down on a nearby table, he wound his way easily through the man party goers, ignoring the looks from his former clients and the propositions for new ones. 

 

Katniss looking positively lethal in the tight black evening gown her stylist had put her in, showcasing her subtle curves and teasing at what was underneath with the sheer black skirt. 

 

Her back was to him as she eyed the table of sweets in front of her and Finnick sidled up right behind her. 

 

“You downright terrifying in that getup, darling,” He whispered in her ear and he grinned to himself when he felt her body tense, “what happened to all your pretty little girl dresses?”

 

She turned, giving him a scathing looking, “I outgrew them.” 

 

He took his time to appreciate the new view, his eyes sliding down her body, taking in the delicate red and silver sequins decorating her bust line, the way the black contrasted against her olive skin, the way the dress seemed to fit her like a glove. She didn't look like the defiant teenager that attempted to one up the Captiol. She looked like a woman who had fought and battled her way through the hellish games and survived to tell the tale. 

 

“You certainly did.” He murmured, flicking his gaze back up to her weary silver gaze. 

 

A settle blush blossomed on her cheeks, “Thank you,” She muttered, her eyes sweeping down his form fitting black jacket, white button up shirt with the top three buttons undone, his perfectly tailored black slacks and right down to his shiny black dress shoes, “you look…nice too.” 

 

He chuckled and her keen eyes snapped back to his and promptly narrowed into slits. 

 

“Can I help you with something, Odair?” she asked icily. 

 

“I simply came here to collect what’s rightfully mine.” He said, eyeing her pointedly. 

 

She crossed her arms across her chest, “Oh? And what’s that?”

 

His lips twitched, “My dance, girl on fire, the one you owe me due to my success at exercising my self control and not alluding to anything remotely sexual during the remaining duration of our phone call last night.”

 

He had her and if the way the annoyance increased ten fold in her eyes was anything to go by, she knew it too. 

 

And Katniss didn't break her promises, he gathered that much about her. 

 

“Fine.”

 

Finnick gestured for her hand, but she ignored it and stalked out to the dance floor and with a chuckle, Finnick followed her. 

 

Meeting her in the middle of the dance floor, Finnick placed his hands on her hips as she reluctantly placed hers on his shoulders. He began to sway her gently to the soft music playing from the stage and absentmindedly began to hum along. 

 

He could feel how tense Katniss was, her body almost rigid beneath his light grip on her hips and her fingers were clasped tightly into the tops of his shoulders. He saw the way her eyes were drifting around the room, assessing her surroundings and looking for any possible threats. 

 

“He won’t hurt you Katniss, not here, not in such a public setting.” Finnick whispered, giving her hip a small squeeze. 

 

Her eyes snapped up to his and he gave her a soft smile, “No one would dare lay an unwanted finger on the girl on fire, they might burn to death.”

 

“Scared I’ll take away your title of Capitol favorite, Finnick?” She asked, a teasing glint in her silver eyes and he felt her body slowly relax underneath his finger tips. 

 

_If only you knew, darling, if only you knew._

 

“Over my dead body, darling.” He murmured a little too strongly and those silver eyes sharpened suspiciously. 

 

“Threatened, Odair?” She asked. 

 

He gave her a grin, “In your dreams, girl on fire.”

 

She rolled her eyes, “You wish, Odair.”

 

“There’s a lot of things I wish for, darling, and you dreaming of me is definitely one of them.” He said with a smirk. 

 

“Is being repulsive also a part of your so called charm, Odair? Or is that justan added extra?” She fired back.

 

He quirked an eyebrow, “Are insults your way of flirting with me?”

 

Her cheeks flushed red and Finnick couldn't help the chuckle at escaped his lips at the anger simmering in her molten eyes, “Relax Katniss, I’m just teasing you, it’s what friends do, after all.”

 

“I told you last night that we weren't friends.” She snapped. 

 

“So you make a habit of calling random acquaintances in the middle of the night to talk about your nightmares?” He countered raising his eyebrows, “Forgive me darling, but somehow I find that hard to believe coming from you of all people.”

 

“Forgive me, Odair, but I didn't think you of all people would get upset about getting phone calls from random… _acquaintances_ in the middle of the night, I apologize for not having anything more… _stimulating_ to discuss. I realize now that something as simple as nightmares might be something out of your range of… _specialties_.” She shot back, her eyes flashing. 

 

“Don’t,” he said, his voice tight, a warning, “talk about things you don’t understand, things that are out of your depth of understanding. You’re not the only one who’s been victimized by these Games, darling, not by a long shot, so it’d be in your best interest to drop the attitude with someone who’s been dealing with this longer than you have. Especially with someone who’s trying to help you.”

 

“I didn't ask for your help.” Katniss hissed, her eyes steely and unforgiving. 

 

He gave a bitter laugh, “No, you didn’t, but yet I find myself willing to give it to you anyways for reasons that are far beyond either one of us.”

 

She opened her mouth to respond, but she was interrupted by a different voice. 

 

“The woman of the hour, mind if I cut in Finnick?” Plutarch asked with a smile. 

 

Finnick returned it, “No, I don’t mind, it seems I’ve been hogging the guest of honor long enough.”

 

Turning his attention back to Katniss, he gave her small smile before he leaned down and softly brushed his lips against her flushed cheek, “As always, it’s been pleasure darling. I love the bracelet by the way, I think grey is becoming my new favorite color.”

 

Pulling away, he caught the look of shock and confusion in her eyes before they hardened back over, her lips tightening into a polite smile, “Finnick.”

 

He grabbed her hand, giving her a small bow, a smirk playing on his lips, “Katniss,” he murmured, before kissing the back her hand, “Enjoy the party.”

 

Flashing another smirk, he disappeared back into the crowd, looking over his shoulder once more to see Katniss staring at his retreating figure, her grey eyes watching him with a new light. He grinned, before he turned back around just in time to see another pair of eyes watching him. 

 

President Snow watched him with cold, calculating eyes and when he noticed Finnick, he gave him a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head. 

 

_Watch yourself,_ it said. 

 

Finnick nodded back, _message received._

 

And when Finnick woke up the next morning after a long night of tossing and turning, of dreams plagued with memories and the color grey, he noticed the creamy envelope sitting on his kitchen counter with a single white rose laying on top of it. 

 

With shaky fingers, he broke the heavy seal with the Panem symbol embossed in red wax and held back the vomit that threatened in the back of his throat at the heavy smell of roses. 

 

_Mr. Odair,_

_Your attendance has been requested for tea at 2 o’clock this afternoon to discuss an urgent matter._

 

_Best wishes,_

 

_Celia Fiddlesworth_

 

_First Secretary for President Snow._

 

Letter still in hand, Finnick reached for the phone and when he heard the person pick up, he didn't even wait for the customary greeting. 

 

“Haymitch, we have a problem.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked it! This was actually supposed to be posted last night, but I fell asleep half way through writing it lol. I hope to have the next chapter posted by the same time next week, but no promises, finals start and I’ll be pretty busy. As it is, I put off writing an eight-page research paper and 15 slide presentation due Monday to write this. Oops. Please let me know what you think, if you wish to see more of Finnick’s point of view, and what you thought of my take on him. He’s a fun guy to write and I hope I got it pretty close to his character in the book. I got a lot of comments about people thinking Katniss and Finnick’s relationship progressing too fast, so I tried to dial it down a bit in this chapter and you’ll see why next chapter. Stay tuned! (:


	4. Understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiii guys! Long time no see and I am deeply sorry for that. My life has been hectic and busy and if I'm being completely honest, I got a little bit discouraged with this story. And I would like to make a few things clear. 
> 
> 1). While I'm trying to keep these characters as true to the book as possible, I'm also trying to dive a little bit deeper and put my own spin on them. 
> 
> 2). Finnick is a rather complex character to write and I had someone dissect every aspect of my version of Finnick and I want to address that personally. Finnick, to me, is someone that has had to live in character for so long, he has a hard time remembering who he was as a person before the games. And I believe I even mentioned that the chapter in his POV. While he is "disgusted by all the sex", it's the only life he's known for seven years. To me, that's not a flip that can be flipped so easily. Finnick wears his sexuality as an armor, a way to disassociate himself from the Capitol world and be able to deal with the life he was forced into. That's something that I'm hoping, the deeper I delve into this story, to build on and start to shed. 
> 
> 3). Finnick, to me, is someone who deals with the horrors of his past with humor and the sexual innuendos will stay, because they provide comedic relief and quite frankly, I like writing him that way. I think that while most of it is played up due to his role in the Capitol, I think that Finnick is someone who would be a natural flirt, prostitution aside. 
> 
> 4). No where in here have I said that Katniss was at all charmed by Finnick or his sense of humor and she has not fallen completely head over heels for Finnick. I believe that Katniss would feel a connection to Finnick, due to their closeness in age and keep in mind that Katniss had no time for boys growing up, so Finnick's...sexual humor would put her off and make her blush and uncomfortable, but she would grow to like it because it's Finnick being Finnick and he's the only one who can match her come back for come back and is willing to verbally spar with her. 
> 
> 5). The nicknames I may go overboard with, but when I write, you have to understand that I'm literally putting myself in the characters shoes and having the conversation through them, so I'm only doing what feels right to me. If anyone else thinks I'm killing it with the nicknames, I'll try to refrain from doing so much in the future. 
> 
> Whew! Now that that's out of the way, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, I've played with it for days and I'm happy with the outcome and I'm writing the next chapter as we speak. Thank you so much for the love! Happy reading (:

_Tick, tick, tick, tick_

 

Finnick’s knee bounced in time with the clock on the wall, the only give away that, underneath the calm and collected facade he was using as a shield between him and the… _people_ he was surrounded by, he was just a bundle of nervous energy that he was dying to be released from. His fingers itched to reach for the worn and frayed rope that was a reassuring weight in side the pocket of his tailored slacks, but he refrained. 

 

Instead, he let his mind revise the plan he and Haymitch had spent half the morning revising and tightening until it was deemed good enough. 

 

_“Play it cool, you haven’t done anything wrong. Snow just wants to see you squirm.”_

 

_“But he knows something—“_

 

_“He knows nothing and you’ll keep it that way. As far as he knows, you’re still playing the part of the flirt and Capitol Playboy that he assigned you the minute you were of legal age. And you’re gonna pull out every acting skill you’ve learned in the last seven years to convince him of the same.”_

 

_“Snows a smart man, he’s aware of the uprisings in the Districts, he knows something is amiss with the citizens of Panem and he knows that his time as President is slowly coming to an end unless he does some major damage control. Use this to your advantage, Finnick.”_

 

_“And Katniss? Haymitch, the girl can barely stand my presence, never mind that she’s supposed to trust me—“_

 

_“Not used to having to work for a female’s affections, pretty boy?” Haymitchtaunted with a chuckle, “don’t worry about Sweetheart, she’s not as tough to crack as you think.”_

 

_“This plan of yours is a lot more complicated than you made it seem.”_

 

_“If you think this plan is complicated, pretty boy, just wait until you hear what we have planned for the Quarter Quell.”_

 

_“And that would be?”_

 

_“Once again, need to know basis.”_

 

_“Right.”_

 

Finnick couldn't help the small snort of disgusted amusement if tried and when the secretary— _Celia Fiddlesworth, was it?—_ gave him a curious look, he just flashed her his most charming smile that was known to disarm even the most unflappable women in the Capitol. She blushed—though it was hard to tell if it was an _actual_ blush due to the unnatural and unfortunate shade of bubblegum pink her skin was—and giggled, wiggling her fingers at him in a way that was supposed to be flirtatious, but to Finnick, it looked more like a spontaneous muscle spasm than a wave. 

 

With a sarcastic tilt to his lips that he was sure went over her head, he wiggled his fingers back at her—he was confident this time that it wasn't, in fact, her skin tone—blushing figure. 

 

The buzz of a intercom made her jump slightly and Finnick enjoyed the bubble gum hue turn more of a magenta perhaps a tad _too_ much at her embarrassment. 

 

Shaking his head, his eyes glanced around the hallway and hoped that the disgust didn't show on his face as he took in the lavish hard wood floors, the gaudy paintings in gold frames that could probably feed all of the Districts for a year with what they were worth, and the ever present white roses that sat on a small pillar in a solid gold vase with intricately carved designs.

 

Finnick resisted the urge to _accidentally_ bump into it and watch it meet its end on the spotless Persian rug placed neatly in front of the whole display. 

 

The harsh sound of heels on tile brought Finnick out of his petulant and destructive thoughts and with a glance up, he was met with a flash of pink cleavage and a skirt that was a lot shorter than it was when he was led into the hallway and told to wait for his appointment with Snow. 

 

Celia Fiddlesworth gave him a coy smile and batted her purple feathered eyelashes at him, “President Snow will see you now, Mr. Odair.”

 

With a smirk that was as fake as the slow glide of his eyes up her body was, he stood and headed towards the bright white double doors that would lead him into Snow’s office, “Such a shame, I was quiet enjoying the view.” He drawled over his shoulder with a lascivious smirk. 

 

Her simpering giggle was cut off by the double doors falling shut with a dull _thud._

 

And when he met the cold blue eyes of President Snow, his plump rubbery pink lips pulled apart in a smile that was anything but friendly, he found himself missing the vapid and flirtatious secretary’s company already. 

 

“Mr. Odair, what a pleasant surprise, please, sit.” 

 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Finnick gave Snow a tight smile and sat down in the proffered plush leather chair directly across the heavy mahogany desk and the monster behind it. 

 

Snow regarded him cooly for a few moments, his glacier blue eyes swimming with barely concealed malice and that familiar hint of warning glinting like ice and suddenly, Finnick was reminded of the last time he was in this office and a barely concealed shiver ran down his spine and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. 

 

“I won’t bother with pleasantries nor will I pretend that this is a social visit, Mr. Odair, when we both have full knowing in why you are here.”

 

Finnick took a moment to collect himself and like a well practiced actor, he slipped into his Capitol mask and let the show begin. 

 

“With all due respect, sir, I am unsure as to why I was invited here today. Was there a complaint from my last client?” He asked, raising a cool eyebrow. 

 

Snow considered him for a moment, “No, Mr. Odair, as usual, your clients only hold you in the highest regard and ensured me that have been fully…satisfied with your company.”

 

Finnick smirked internally, “So if it’s not my clients, sir, forgive me, but I still don’t understand why you requested my presence here today, if it’s not, as you say, a social visit.” He replied, placing imaginary quotation marks around Snow’s earlier phrase. 

 

The idea that Finnick would come here of his own free will was laughable and Finnick hoped the dark humor didn't show on his face. 

 

“There are a few things that have been brought to my attention, Mr. Odair, and all of them seem to revolve around the lovely Ms. Everdeen,” Snow began, “however, the one that’s cause for the most concern at the moment, is the nature of your relationship with her,” Snow’s eyes sharpened on Finnick and Finnick stared right back, unwavering, “if any of the interactions I saw last night were anything to go by, the two of you seem quite… _close_.”

 

Snow raised an eyebrow, as if daring Finnick to argue. 

 

_Don’t give the game away just yet, old man._

 

Finnick, however, simply chuckled, “I can’t speak for Ms. Everdeen, sir, when it comes to her feelings on the matter, but if her quick tongue and overall hostility towards me is anything to go by, I would say she detests me,” Finnick licked his lips, leaning in a bit closer, conspiratorial, “I, however, find her fire…intriguing. It’s a bit frustrating, you see, women seem to throw themselves at me and practically get on their knees and beg for the pleasure of my company, but Ms. Everdeen…” Finnick shook his head and chuckled in a self-deprecating way, shrugging his shoulders in a ‘ _what are you gonna do?’_ way. 

 

Snow chuckled, “Ah, yes, perhaps it’s the…unfortunate death of her District partner, Peeta Mellark, was it?”

 

Finnick heard it for what it was, _did you believe that entire ruse to be true?_

 

_You’re showing your cards a little early, old man._

 

Finnick shrugged his shoulder, a small, knowing smirk dancing on his lips, “Perhaps,” Finnick allowed, “but that’s what makes the chase all the more intriguing, doesn't it? Gathering all the pieces to the puzzle, gathering their trust…learning their… _secrets.”_ He raised his eyebrows, his tone suggesting to the man across from him as if they were in on the same game. As if they were _equals._

 

The thought made Finnick sick to his stomach. 

 

“I will allow this little… _fascination_ with Ms. Everdeen continue, as I see no harm in it,” Snow said after a moments pause and Finnick was waiting for the other shoe to drop, “as long as it doesn't interfere with your work here, that is.”

 

Finnick felt his stomach sink slightly, but his poker face didn't waver. 

 

_I call._

 

“As much as it pains me to say it sir,” Finnick paused, “some of my clients have been talking and there are… _rumors.”_

 

Finnick held back the smirk that threatened at the edges of his lips as he watched the brief moment of hesitation flicker in those usually harsh blue eyes and he knew he had the Presidents full attention now. 

 

“What rumors?” He demanded softly, carefully, his eyes so much like a snake, coiled and ready to strike at the sound of danger. 

 

“The citizens of Panem are a bit… _upset,_ by the death of Peeta Mellark, as tragic as it was and some think that it was… _planned.”_ Finnick pretended to inspect his nails, wrinkling his eyebrows, “I mean, just the other night, one of my clients who’s well acquainted with someone in the Gamemaker’s control room told me, well,” Finnick gave a shrug, but the sharpness of his eyes were anything but nonchalant when he flicked them back to regard the man before him, “I shouldn't say, I wouldn't want them to get in trouble, anonymity and all, right sir?”

 

Snow regarded him carefully and Finnick stared right back, his gaze unwavering and when he saw the tightness around Snow’s eyes and the ill-concealed anger raging like a volatile storm in his snake like blue eyes, Finnick felt the victorious smirk play at his lips. 

 

“I see,” Snow said tightly, “well, considering these…transgressions will take some time to be rectified, perhaps it would be best if you refrained from any of your appointments until further notice.”

 

“If you think that’s best, sir,” Finnick replied, nodding, standing from his chair and making his way to the door. 

 

“Just remember, Mr. Odair, that if I find out that these particular accusations turn out to be false, this will be seen as treason and the consequences would be severe.” 

 

His words made Finnick pause and the hand that was wrapped around the door handle, tighten until his knuckles turned white. His skin tingled with the threat that hung heavily in the air with the scent of blood and roses and for a brief moment, he let the Victor part of his brain take over and entertain the idea of just taking the three strides to his desk and wrapping his shaking hands around his neck and _squeezing_ until the malicious light left those venomous eyes. 

 

Instead, Finnick settled with dropping the entire facade—there really was no point in it anymore when they both _knew—_ meeting those smirking eyes over his shoulder and matching it with one of his own. 

 

“I think you and I both know, President Snow,” Finnick said cooly, “that these… _accusations_ are anything but false.” 

 

And maybe it was a stupid move, laying all of his cards out on the table like that, but getting to see the victorious smirk die from Snow’s eyes and the look of pure _shock_ and _anger_ take its place, was worth any retribution coming his way. 

 

“Good day, sir.” 

 

_Didn't anyone ever tell you to never play poker with someone who has nothing to lose, old man?_

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

_Burning, that’s all Katniss could feel as she raced towards the Cornucopia, her fatigued muscles aching, her sore ankle protesting against the heavy pound of her boots slamming against the solid ground of the forest._

 

_Burning, in her lungs, her skin, her muscles, her bones. Her body was lit up from in the inside out from the amount of running she had done in such a short time span._

 

_Rue was dead, Peeta was dead and her eyes were burning with unshed tears of anger and sorrow and she fought against them hard. She couldn't break, not now. She wouldn't give them the finale that they wanted._

 

_She could barely hear the sound of her own heart as the heavy blows of large paws beating against the earth overwhelmed her ears and she swore she could feel the heat of stale breath against the back of her neck, razor sharp teeth barely grazing the sensitive skin and it made her push harder against the heavy weights that seemed to have settled around her legs. Fear was something Katniss wasn't familiar with, an emotion she had never let her self feel because it could cost her the very blood that ran through her veins and that was never something she could afford to lose. But as themutts drew closer, her quick steps seemed to shorten and the Cornucopia that was now in her sights, the metal of the imposing structure gleaming in the weak moonlight of the full moon hanging high in the synthetic sky, seemed to grow farther and farther away._

 

_A tree root came out of nowhere and Katniss didn't even have time to register herself falling before she slammed painfully into the dirt that was once beneath her feet. She as attempted to push herself up, her body only seemed to grow heavier and weaker all at once, and suddenly, the weight of what had occurred in hell that was this arena seemed to bare down upon her and she found that the more she struggled, the more futile her efforts proved. Desperation and panic clawed at her insides the longer she stayed down and the sound of ominous the mutts hungry growls grew closer with fast beat of her heart._

 

_Her mind raced, trying to think of something, anything to get her out of this situation, but every time a thought came to her it vanished like a cloud of smoke, evading her frantic grasp. Her vision was clouding, voices that sounded familiar descending on her weak form, begging and screaming in sheer agony for her—_

 

_“Katniss, hurry, they’re coming!”_

 

_“Katniss, please get up, they’ll kill you—“_

 

_“Katniss—“_

 

_“Katniss—“_

 

_White teeth gleamed red from above her face and just before the mutt tore through her sweat soaked skin, she noticed the familiar shade of obsidian eyes gleaming down at her with a hungry sense of victory._

 

_“I warned you, Ms. Everdeen.”_

 

~~~~

 

Katniss awoke with a start, her heart pounding in her chest, fear slicing like a knife through her rib cage at her inability to move her legs. She felt trapped, cornered like a wild animal and it took her a few minutes to realize that it was only her sweat drenched sheets tangled around her legs preventing her from moving. Throwing them off of her in disgust, she rolled out of bed and headed into her adjoining bathroom, flicking on the light and immediately went to the sink to splash cool water on to her face. 

 

When she caught sight of her reflection in the silver framed mirror positioned above the sink, she didn't recognize the face staring back her. Pale skin, dark circles and lifeless grey eyes, red rimmed and puffy from tears she wasn't aware she’d shed during the nightmare that was still at the front of her mind. 

 

She remembered that night, as clear as if she was still in the arena and the memories made her want to vomit. The mutts stale breath, the sounds of their jaws snapping together as they growled and snarled while they chased her and Cato to a finale that Panem wasn't likely to forget, the sound of Cato’s screams as they tore him apart. Her desperation and fear and relief and anger and despair making her head spin and bile rise in her throat as the hovercraft brought her out of the arena. 

 

Shaking her head, she quickly brushed her teeth and washed her face again for good measure. 

 

_Don’t think about,_ she thought to herself, _stop thinking about it._

 

Padding back into her room, she sat down on her bed and stared out at the slowly rising sun, and as she made her way around her room, preparing for another day in the woods, Katniss absentmindedly toyed with the bracelet that had become an anchor to her over the last few weeks, her fingers brushing over the cool shells and feeling the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. She thought it was a bit silly, a bracelet giving her more peace of mind than any of the sleeping pills Effie had given her or the herbal teas her mother had prescribed her, but every time she looked down at the colorful shells and the intricate weaving of the tan twine, she was taken back to the sun and sand and the smell of sea salt and sugar cubes and—

 

_Finnick._

 

She didn't understand this…fixation he had with her and her…curiosity she had, in turn, with him. He was frustrating, egotistical and downright aggravating—with his stupid smile and constant flirting and sexual innuendos and oozing sex appeal and warm sea-green eyes that always glinted with mischievous secrecy, like he just knew things about her before she knew them herself. It irked her as much as it piqued her interest. 

 

_Which frustrated her to no end._

 

She felt…safe in his presence, comfortable, and she was more aware of him than any man that she had come in contact with in her life, not even Peeta. He made her feel things that she had never felt before and it annoyed her to the point of insanity. She always felt like she was missing something with him, like the pieces of the puzzle he presented didn't add up and it frustrated her. A part of her felt like he was toying with her—a fresh face in the endless sea of women he had amused himself with since he became of legal age. 

 

But then she remembered the way he stayed up with her, the night she plucked up the courage to call and thank him for the bracelets he had made —Prim had fawned over hers for days, even called him and thanked him herself for making her one too and Katniss had wanted no part of that conversation, just silently punched the number into the phone with more force than necessary and she was annoyed to see Prim just as enamored with him as every other female—and once he stopped hitting her with sexual innuendos and speaking in sexual undertones, he was actually…decent to talk to. 

 

His smooth voice was easy to get lost in and made all the tension drain out of her tired body. He told her stories of growing up in District Four—fishing with his father and older brothers, Mags teaching him how to weave nets and make bracelets and suddenly, he wasn't the _Finnick Odair_ that Katniss had heard about, he was simply Finnick—with his embarrassing stories andself-deprecating humor and loving way he spoke about his home that made Katniss want to return to it and experience it through his eyes. 

 

But then at the Capitol party, it was as if a flip had been switched and he was back to _Finnick Odair,_ incessant flirt and oozing arrogance and sensuality and it made Katniss want to grind her teeth together in frustration. 

 

Finnick Odair was an enigma—he confused her and annoyed her, but yet made her feel safe and calm and normal and she didn't know _why._

 

_“Don’t talk about things you don’t understand, things that are out of your depth of understanding. You’re not the only one who’s been victimized by these Games, darling, not by a long shot, so it’d be in your best interest to drop the attitude with someone who’s been dealing with this longer than you have. Especially with someone who’s trying to help you.”_

 

That was the first time in all of their banter that Katniss’s words seemed to have struck a nerve and in hindsight, she realized, albeit grudgingly, that he was right. While being a Victor may make her feel like being an alien in her own District, she wasn't the first person to go through the Games and deal with the unfortunate fate of winning. She just felt so… _angry,_ at the Captiol for viewing the Games as some form of entertainment, at Snow for being the sick bastard that he was, and at everyone else who thought they knew what she was going through because they _watched,_ but they didn't actually _live_ it. They weren't the ones who suffered the nightmares or grow to hate something they used to enjoy simply because the animals were no longer animals, they turned into Marvel or Cato or Rue or _Peeta_ and suddenly she was tossed back into a glass cage and it made her want to _scream._ They thought she should be grateful for surviving, but the truth of the matter was that no one, not even the strongest, survived the Hunger Games. 

 

And what angered her the most, was the fact that the cycle would repeat. Twenty-four more kids would have to fight to the death to come back to their families who have to tip-toe around them out of fear of setting them off and not even being able to sleep normally because the horrors of their past would greet them like an old friend the minute they shut their eyes. 

 

And she would be forced to watch as two kids from her District, as they were reaped and sent to slaughter and she would have to _mentor_ them. 

 

The thought alone was enough to make her want to reach for the nearest bottle of alcohol and drink until she was numb. She felt a rush of sympathy towards Haymitch and suddenly, guilt ate at her gut at the way she had treated Finnick the last time they had spoken. 

 

While she was still uncomfortable around in him in so many ways, she found herself wishing for his company. He was the only one, besides Prim, who wasn't put off by her generally anti-social behavior. If anything, her constant bluntness and overall irritability was a constant source of amusement for him and she would never understand why. She wasn't very good at making friends—her and Gale’s relationship had mainly revolved around surviving for so long, she was sure that if both of their fathers hadn't died and they weren't both forced with the task of taking care of their families, they never would've given each other a second thought. Her and Peeta’s relationship consisted of mostly of the same pattern. 

 

_And look where they both got me, Peeta’s dead and I’m no longer speaking to Gale._

 

Really, the closest thing Katniss had ever had to a friend was Prim and even she wasn't above admitting that was kind of…sad, considering Prim was her sister and therefore, was forced to love her. 

 

But Finnick, Finnick actually sought her out and attempted to build some sort of…relationship, with her, despite her obvious disinterest and overall rudeness to him. 

 

Katniss looked back down at the bracelet that sat gently on her wrist, it’s light weight not unpleasant against the soft skin of her wrist. Sighing to herself, she shrugged on her old leather jacket and made her way out into the empty streets of District Twelve. The quiet streets did nothing to quell her wandering thoughts and the closer she got to the woods, when her cold hands gripped the worn, warm wood of her bow and when she had the rabbit small brown rabbit within the sights of her arrow and her mind flashed back to Rue and her _brown_ eyes and her _brown_ curly hair and she couldn't bring herself to shoot, she realized— 

 

Finnick, other than Haymitch, was the only one that she knew that _understood._

 

_“It took me almost a year to even use a fork because it looked too much like a trident. Every time I speared a piece of food, it turned into someone I killed.”_

 

And maybe, she thought to herself as she sunk down into the soft ground beneath her, giving up on hunting for the moment, _understanding_ was worth swallowing her pride for the one person who was willing to help her live with this life that she was now forced to lead. 

 

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was the nightmare still fresh in her mind and maybe it was because for the first time since coming home from the games that she let herself _feel,_ that the tears fell silent and chilled down her frozen cheeks. 

 

_My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am from District Twelve and I am the sole winner of the 74th Hunger Games. Peeta is dead. Rue is dead. I need someone who understands._

 

_And Finnick Odair understands._

 

_~~~~~~~~~~_

 

Katniss took the back way to Victor’s Village, hoping to avoid anyone who might want to stop and talk to her. Her eyes, she was sure, were red and swollen from crying and she could feel the beginnings of a dull throb behind her eyelids from the amount of thinking she’d done in the time span of two hours. 

 

She felt tired, fatigued in a way that almost convinced her that she could lay down and sleep for days without fear of nightmares plaguing her mind. But amidst the fatigue, she could feel a lightness that made her feel so normal, that she found a smile dancing on her lips. 

 

She only stopped by the Hob to grab a few bottles of white liquor from Ripper, who pretended to not notice the state she was in—and she must have been in one, with her muddy clothes, red rimmed eyes, but a smile on her lips as if all was right in the world, and for the first time, it felt as if everything _was_ —and Katniss, feeling grateful, slid her a few more coins when she turned to help her next buyer. 

 

She hopped the fence to Haymitch’s place, going in through the back door and ignoring the stale smell of unwashed male and liquor, slammed the bottles down on the table next to Haymitch, who looked to be dozing off in his usual position at the head of the kitchen table. 

 

He jumped, fingers reflectively reaching for the knife Katniss had swiped just in time and tossed into the sink. 

 

Haymitch opened his mouth to berate her, but upon noticing the fresh bottles of booze, seemed to think better of it and gave his thanks by tipping one of the new bottles in her direction before taking a hefty sip. 

 

Haymitch’s eyes tracked her every movement as she perched in her usual spot on the counter and when she met his unusually sober seam grey eyes, she knew that she had made a mistake in coming here. 

 

“What’s got you in such a good mood, Sweetheart? Sample a bit of my presents?” He asked, twirling the bottle around with a raised eyebrow. 

 

She rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored the bait and instead, flicked her eyes down to the toes of her muddy hunting boots. 

 

“I’m sensing some sort of,” Haymitch waved his hands about, “shift in the atmosphere, Sweetheart, that makes me wish that I was a whole lot drunker than I am.” 

 

Katniss shifted, glancing back up at Haymitch to see him looking at her expectantly. 

 

“How much access do Victor’s have to the other Districts?” She asked, voicing the idea that had been slowly taking life in her mind for the majority of the morning. 

 

“Along with all the other perks that come with being a Victor—the fame and the glory and the fortune, the Capitol extends their generosity even further by allowing Victors the _special_ privilege of being able to travel to the other Districts without too much fanfare,” Haymitch answered absentmindedly, considering the clear green bottle in his hands. 

 

“So if I wanted to travel somewhere, I could just do it, no problem?” She asked. 

 

“For the most part, yes. Why? Planning a vacation?” He asked with a snort of amusement, taking another sip from the bottle.

 

“No, I was actually going to ask Finnick if he’d like to come visit for a while.” Katniss replied, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the amount of _knowing_ swimming in Haymitch’s eyes. 

 

“Good for you, Sweetheart, deciding to make some friends.” 

 

Katniss’ gaze sharpened on Haymitch, suspicion leaking into her veins at the lack of bite behind those words. She knew that Haymitch cared about her, in his own warped, weird way, but he still liked to give her a hard time about things and the fact that he wasn't taking a stab that this one, of all things, caught her off guard. 

 

But with the way he was looking at her, she knew, suddenly, that Haymitch just _knew_ what had happened to her today. The crying, the thinking, the feeling, the _understanding._ Briefly, she wondered if that’s why Haymitch, despite his grumblings and sarcasm and overall unpleasantness, didn't outright tell her to leave him alone. 

 

_Understanding,_ she was coming to realize, was a powerful force and it linked them and intertwined them all together on some level until they were just one force learning to live all over again. 

 

Haymitch had, despite the odds, had brought her home to her family and she, in turn, had not only given him his first Victor, but had given him another reason to keep surviving another day. 

 

She found herself smiling, despite herself, and she ignored the odd look Haymitch threw her. Hopping off of the counter, she made her way to the back door to see herself out when Haymitch’s voice stopped her. 

 

“Remember that not everything is as it seems, Katniss.” 

 

Startled, Katniss paused, and turned to face an unusually serious Haymitch. 

 

“We’ve all got something we’re trying to protect and sometimes we do things that may seem unspeakable and even condemnable to others,” Haymitch continued, holding her gaze steadily and without a trace of the alcohol he’d consumed during her stay, “Finnick, for all his charm and womanizing ways, has gone through things that would bring even the strongest of Victor’s to their knees. He’s trying to survive just as much as the rest of us. You’ll do well to remember that.”

 

Unsure how to respond, Katniss turned and silently walked back out into snow covered District and hopped the fence, landing as gracefully as the predator she once was and made her way slowly into the house. 

 

Judging by the silence in her house, Prim was already off to school and her mother was either in town or over at the Hawthorne’s or whatever it was she did during the day, Katniss wasn't sure. 

 

Shaking the snow flakes out of her hair and kicking off her boots and shedding her jacket in the hallway, she crept upstairs and headed into her room, where that familiar piece of paper lay, with the familiar elegant and loopy handwriting and the familiar phone number scrawled at the bottom of the letter. 

 

Brushing her fingers across the cool seashells on her bracelet, Katniss dialed the number and while she waited for the familiar voice to answer, her mind drifted back what Haymitch had said not even five minutes before. 

 

_“We’ve all got something we’re trying to protect.”_

 

And she had to wonder, as she heard the tell tale sign of the other line being picked up and Finnick’s soft, teasing voice filled her ears—

 

_What did Finnick have to protect?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys liked it and you can blame my inspiration for the revival of this story on You Before Me, which, if you haven't read it you totally should but be warned: have tissues handy. It's is an amazing book and Sam's portrayal of Will Traynor inspired me to write again. It gave me the ability to write this chapter and I'm so happy to be back writing again. Thank you so much for your continued love and support of this story and being the most patient people in the world. I hope to have the next chapter posted in a week or so, but I don't have a lot of time to write. I'm trying though, so just continue to be patient with me and I'll try my best! Until next time my lovelies! (:

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it, I hope to have the next chapter up by this time next week, but no promises! Please let me know what you think (:


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